


Fifteen times you and me

by PhoenixGFawkes



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: F/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-01
Updated: 2009-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5812399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixGFawkes/pseuds/PhoenixGFawkes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Need, boundaries, control, love, obsession, shame, heat, submission, lies, ego, pain, money, dreams and all that’s Chuck and Blair in fifteen vignettes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifteen times you and me

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Quince veces tú y yo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5812342) by [PhoenixGFawkes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixGFawkes/pseuds/PhoenixGFawkes). 



  1. **Boundaries**



 

There are certain lines he doesn’t dare to cross.

He doesn’t care whether it’s right or wrong. He’s never worried about what other people believe to be appropriate; he never wanted to be virtue incarnated. If there’s something he wants, anything at all, he won’t hesitate to take it, because that’s the way he is and has always been. Life is too short to let etiquette rules stop you, to let morals bind your hands. The fine members of society, the upstanding ladies with tight hairstyles and cheekbones, the gentlemen with tuxedos and large bank accounts might frown and shake their heads but he’s never let an opportunity pass him by, he’s never had to live regretting what could have been and wasn’t.

Until now.

There are certain lines he doesn’t dare to cross.

He doesn’t care what anyone else might think of him. He doesn’t care about his father’s and his friends’ opinion, he doesn’t care about what might be said at school behind his back. He’s not sure he really cares what Nate might think. He’s already had his chance and let it pass, out of insecurity, out of fear, because Nate could never be like him and just take what he wanted without thinking about the consequences.

There are certain lines he doesn’t dare to cross.

He doesn’t care about what _she_ might say. He’s never concerned himself much for what a girl could say afterwards, as long as he’d gotten what he wanted from her before. He used them and threw them away once he was done, that’s always been his style and there’s no reason to change his mind now.

However…

However, he doesn’t there to cross the line. He doesn’t dare to caress her soft hair; he doesn’t dare to circle her slim waist with his arm. He doesn’t dare to bend over and kiss her on the lips; he doesn’t dare to whisper in her ear the things he’s dying to say.

He doesn’t dare to cross the line, but not because he fears she might reject him, not because he’s afraid to ruin his only chance with her. He’s never cared about rejection, he’s never let the fear to fail stop him before and he’s not going to start now.

There are certain lines, however, that he doesn’t dare to cross. Not because what people might think, not because he’s concerned about Nate’s reaction, not even because she might reject him. The reason he doesn’t dare, the reason why he keeps a distance he’s dying to breach, it’s much simpler, much more complicated.

What he fears, what paralyzes him and prevents him from doing anything, is knowing with all certainty that once he crosses the line, once he surrenders to temptation and takes with both hands what he’s wanted for so, so long, it’ll take one taste of her lips, her warmth, to become addicted. He knows that once he has her all to himself he’ll never be able to let her go. And that terrifies him.

There are certain lines he doesn’t dare to cross.

 

 

  1. **Submission**



 

He knows that the shop assistants are looking at him with ill-concealed pity when they see him walk in carrying bags and a worn-out expression, hardly capable of keeping up with Blair, who walks with a determined look and her head held high, like someone who has a mission to accomplish and is willing to succeed or die trying. Or make Chuck die for her, in any case.

She goes through the racks like a hurricane, grabbing gowns left and right, and she doesn’t slow down until she gets to the other side of the store. Chuck almost has to run to catch her.

‘Sit there.’ She points at a comfortable-looking armchair and Chuck lets out a relieved sigh. She frowns at him. ‘Don’t go anywhere, we’re not over here.’

‘Yes, sir,’ he mutters under his breath, but does as he’s told without a word of protest. He’s too familiar to the manic gleam in her eyes to take any risks. She glances at him once more and then disappears behind a changing room’s door.

‘She’s got you on a leash, doesn’t she?’

Chuck turns around and his eyes meet with a man in his fifties sitting a few steps away, who is now regarding him with an amused look in his eyes. Chuck raises an eyebrow.

‘Excuse me?’

The man shrugs, barely wrinkling his impeccable Armani shirt.

‘I mean your girlfriend. She’s got you on a leash.’

Chuck flinches, flustered. No one has Chuck Bass on a leash and least of all a girl. It’s the most insulting thing he’s ever been told in his entire life. He starts to reply with his usual sarcasm, but that only seems to amuse the man, who lets out a chuckle.

‘Boy, the sooner you get used to the idea, the better. It’ll spare you a few headaches.’

Chuck is about to tell the man a thing or two, none of them very polite, when the changing room’s door opens. The man stops paying him any attention whatsoever, his eyes have widened and a whistle escapes from his lips. Chuck turns around so fast his neck cracks and, even though he’ll never admit it afterwards, he stops breathing at the vision that appears before him.

Slender legs that look even longer due to the heels, black silk several inches above her knees, framing her hips and embracing her waist. Chuck’s gaze goes upwards slowly, inch by inch, his eyes halting at her cleavage – more daring than ever – for a moment, and keep going upwards until he meets her bright eyes.

‘So?’ she says, biting her lower lip. It takes him a moment before he regains speech, not to mention his cool façade.

‘You could star anyone’s wet dream.’

He gives her his most lecherous smirk and she rolls her eyes. However, insecurity finds its way back in as she glances at the mirror.

‘I think the green one would fit me better, don’t you?’ Before he can reply, she’s already closed the door. ‘Don’t go anywhere!’

Chuck sinks into his seat, trying not to picture the luxurious black silk sliding from Blair’s bare shoulders, trying not to picture Blair looking at the mirror in her underwear.

He doesn’t quite manage it, of course – not like he tries very hard. He doesn’t snap out from his reverie until a whisper from the Armani man reaches his ears.

‘You know what, boy? With a girl like that, I wouldn’t mind being on a leash.’

Before realizing what he’s doing, Chuck nods. He doesn’t bother to explain that she’s actually his best friend’s girlfriend. Not like it matters: the changing room’s door opens again and the dress Blair is now wearing makes her even more desirable than before.

Sometimes, Chuck reflects in that corner of his mind he’ll never share with anyone, it’s not so hard swallowing his own pride and keeping his head down if the reward is worth it.

 

 

  1. **Shame**



Her performance is superb. Just the right emotional note, the perfect phrasing, each gesture carefully calculated. Blair Waldorf doesn’t only know how to plan an attack; she is also capable of executing it with the necessary coldness and precision. Serena Van der Woodsen never stood a chance.

As everyone whispers, their eyes fixed on the golden queen with her broken crown at her feet, Chuck’s gaze is always on her executioner, who walks with her head held high and a triumphal look in her eyes.

Chuck’s never been one to deny a victory to those who are worthy of it – especially if he doesn’t belong to the defeated side of the fight – and there’s something undeniably alluring in the perverse gleam that lits Blair’s eyes, so he intends to congratulate her. Serena’s little brother, whatever Van der Woodsen, gets to her first.

Chuck stops a few steps behind Blair, intrigued. He doubts whichever counterattack the brat might have planned will even make her blink, but he wants to see up-close how Blair crushes him just like she crushed his sister in front of the entire Manhattan elite.

He can’t hear what the boy’s saying or see Blair’s reaction from where he’s standing, but he does realize that the brat, far from looking defeated, walks out of the room with his head held high and a resolved look, buttoning his cuffs as he disappears behind a door. Puzzled, Chuck approaches Blair.

‘What was that all about?’

Blair bits her lip and Chuck notes it’s taking her a superhuman effort to keep her cold, indifferent façade in place.

‘Nothing,’ she says and in her usually steady, freezing voice there’s a broken note, a shattered tone he doesn’t like at all. Words of praise die in his throat and a knot forms in his stomach when he sees an unfamiliar emotion shinning in her brown eyes, which leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

‘Blair, what…?’

But she’s already walking away from him. For once her head is not held high, her spine isn’t upright: she walks with her shoulders bent, as though all the weight of the world had suddenly been placed on her back, her victory turned into bitter defeat.

 

 

  1. **Medicine**



Chuck Bass is dying.

Every and each one of his muscles, including his eyelids, hurts; he feels like his mouth has turned into sandpaper and his skin burns in the most unpleasant manner. His surroundings don’t cease to spin and spin, and there’s a constant drumming inside his skull that aspirin hasn’t managed to silence yet.

He wonders whether it’s too soon to write his will. He wishes to be buried along his scarf and the last Playboy issue. Nate can keep the rest of his belongings, including his watch. His burial must take place at night, and there should be an open bar throughout the entire ceremony, not to mention the Playboy bunnies and…

His train of thought derails when his bedroom starts to spin once more and it doesn’t matter anyway, because his father is probably already taking care of his will and all the paperwork his imminent death will bring. At least he can count on his old man for that.

The knocking against the inside of his skull becomes more and more insistent. He covers his head with his pillow but the knocking remains, now accompanied by a voice that doesn’t sound at all like his conscience, assuming of course he ever had one of those.

‘Bass, are you still in bed?’

How strange, he would swear that’s Blair Waldorf’s voice, but she would never enter his bedroom, not without a shotgun and her boyfriend by her side. After all, she knows him well.

Light burns his eyes when someone takes away the pillow from his face and he lets out a groan.

‘For Heaven’s sake, Bass, one would think you’ve got some terminal disease.’

He _does_ have a terminal disease, no matter whether the doctor claims it’s just…

‘Chicken pox, Chuck. How come you didn’t catch it as a child like normal people?’

‘I must’ve skipped it’ he mutters through gritted teeth and his throat burns. With some difficulty he opens his eyes, only to find a rather exasperated Blair Waldorf. Chuck blinks several times before deciding he’s not hallucinating, because otherwise she would be wearing a skanky nurse outfit, complete with a white miniskirt and red panties, instead of the sober school uniform.

‘What are you doing here?’ he manages to ask, still shocked. She shrugs.

‘Nate me asked me to come by and check on you. He had to see his dad and couldn’t make it.’

A silence follows these words, until Blair huffs and folds her arms.

‘So?’

Chuck stares at her, confused. He tries to focus his gaze unsuccessfully.

‘So what?’

She rolls her eyes.

‘How do you feel?’

He scowls, and even that small gesture pains him.

‘What do you think? Blair, I’m dying.’

Even through the mist that clouds his eyes, he can see her rolling her eyes.

‘Sure you are.’ Her eyes sweep around the room, she frowns delicately. ‘Weren’t you given some medicine or something?’

Chuck’s face contorts into a disgusted grimace.

‘Blair, I’m not having that thing. It’s heinous. Even more, I’m sure it’s toxic.’

She closes her eyes, opens them again.

‘Chuck, don’t be idiotic.’

Her eyes scan the room once more and this time they meet the damned bottle with a spoon by its side. With a little smirk that can’t bode well, Blair approaches his bedside table and grabs the fucking flask. He stares at her apprehensively.

‘What’re you doing with that?’

Her smirk widens and turns ominous as she removes the cap and fills the spoon with a dense, nauseating liquid. Instead of replying, she sits on the bed by his side, so close that her thigh grazes his hip through the sheets. In different circumstances he might have smirked at this, but he is in too much pain to appreciate it. Besides, he doesn’t trust her at all, especially when she smirks like that.

‘C’mon, Chuck. Open your mouth.’

He shakes his head and grits his teeth.

‘Chuck, don’t be childish.’

When it comes to him that’s never been an effective argument and this time is no exception. He shakes his head again.

‘Bass, open your mouth or I swear that I’ll make you regret it.’

The iciness of her voice would have made nearly every girl at Constance Billard and more than one boy at St. Jude’s tremble with fear, but at this point Chuck is immune to it. There’s no way she’ll make him swallow such atrocity, it’s set into stone.

The girl’s lips turn into a thin white line and that’s never a good sign, but nevertheless Chuck stands firm. His father would be proud of him.

Maybe. Probably not.

Then, her lips curve once more in a fleeting smirk and a strange gleam lit her eyes. _What…?_

Suddenly, air stops entering his lungs when Blair pinches his nose with her free hand. Chuck tries to push her away, but his arms seem to weigh a ton each. He has no other option but surrender and open his mouth to let some air in… which is when Blair seizes the opportunity to stick the damned spoon into his mouth.

He’s tempted to spit the medicine on her face, but by reflex he swallows and he could swear the liquid produces blisters all the way down his throat.

She stands up and fixes her skirt, looking pleased with herself. He glares at her, which only seems to amuse her.

‘Get well soon, Bass.’

When she’s about to walk out the door, Chuck manages to reply:

‘Next time, at least wear a nurse outfit.’

Her sardonic chuckle is the last thing Chuck hears before the door closes.

 

  1. **Shatter**



 

It’s strange how fast can it all fall apart.

One moment, she’s between his arms, her skin softer than the silk she’s wearing, her bright eyes fixed in his, her hair’s scent intoxicating his senses. Music surrounds them and the word disappears around them as they sweep across the empty hall. He smiles because she’s there with him despite all odds, despite fate’s initial designs. She’s there and everything else dissolves into nothingness.

The next moment everything falls apart. She sees through his mask, sees what he’s done and her face is twisted by rage. Before he can stop her she escapes from his embrace and walks away from him, each step she takes punctuating not only the distance between them but also the measure of her fury.

He should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve realized that there are things that cannot be controlled, that the best laid plans will go awry because she sees through him like no one else ever has. He should’ve accepted that some battles are lost before they even start.

But that’s not in his nature. At an early age he was taught that in order to obtain what he wanted he had to grasp it with both his hands, that he never had to let go an inch, because nothing in this world is a gift, not really.

That’s why instead of accepting he’s lost this time; he decides to follow her, running after the swirling of her brilliant skirt across the hall and up the stairs. He doesn’t know what he’ll do once he catches up with her, he doesn’t know how he’ll convince her to stay with him when all his charms, all his spells are useless against her, when she’s the only one who is never fooled either by his mask or his words. The only thing he does know is that he doesn’t want to –  _he can’t_ – let her escape.

A group of girls in sparkling, colorful gowns, with tight hairstyles and white, empty smiles come his way. He avoids them and then he loses sight of his prey. He looks both ways, searches for her among the succession of silk gowns that are abandoning the hall, tries to distinguish her voice among the half-whispered conversations and quiet laughter that surrounds him, his eyes look after certain brown curls, a pair of slim shoulders, a porcelain face concealed among the crowd.

Getting desperate, he races upstairs. He doesn’t know what makes his heart hammer inside his chest; he doesn’t know why his pulse quickens. All he knows is that if he doesn’t reach her in time, then it will be too late.

He jumps the last couple of steps and he stops dead on his tracks, her name dying on his lips. His heart stops hammering in his chest, his breath hitches, and his veins turn into strands of ice. There she is, all white silk and naughty smirk, her curls escaping the tight bun, her porcelain skin tinged with red. He’s never seen her so beautiful and so distant.

There she is. Only a few steps away from him. He could breach the distance between them with a few strides, he could break the silence calling her name, he could hold her against his chest. He could do many things, but it will never matter, because there she is in someone else’s arms, the arms of the boy who always had her, who will always have her.

The boy that sees him standing at the stairs and doesn’t understand, the boy who smiles and winks at him as he takes her through a door that closes on his face, leaving him forever out.

He turns around and starts to walk down the stairs, his expression impassive and his lips pressed tight. No one who sees him could notice, no one could suspect there’s something broken inside him, no one could imagine that with each step he takes away from her, his shoes shatter his wishes, destroy his dreams, tear apart little by little what is left of his soul.

 

  1. **Bother**



 

She looked immaculate, with her spotless velvet dress; her curs carefully kept in place by a red band, her serious little face, her small white hands on her lap. She looked so unblemished, so pure, so _perfect_ she didn’t look like a real girl.

That bothered him fro some reason far too complex to be understood by a five-year-old boy. All he knew was that there was something unnatural in the way she sat, her crossed ankles revealing a pair of laced stockings, her head held high, her small, quiet voice solemnly saying ‘Morning, Miss’ as though she were a talking doll.

The other girls whispered among themselves and giggled, they tossed around the toys and shoved each other, but not her. She just sat in a corner, very quietly, brushing her doll’s long, straight blonde her, so different from her chocolate wire-like curls. In spite of being surrounded by the noise and havoc of a gang of small children during break time, she remained impassive. He didn’t like that at all.

Perhaps, if he made her lose her concentration, if she was distracted from her doll, the serious look would dissipate, perhaps she’d stop looking like a porcelain doll to become a real girl he could play with.

He did all he could think of to draw her attention. His laugh became the highest, his voice became the loudest. He run faster than all the other children, he walked over a fence – and fell on top of a bed of flowers, forever ruining them – he caught a toad and chased the other girls with it. All was in vain. With her usual regal attitude, she kept untangling the doll’s hair, lost in her own dream world, as though everyone else were insignificant, as though _he_ were insignificant.

That was unacceptable. No one ignored him, not ever, and he wouldn’t let a girl with wire-like hair, bright eyes and a red headband get away with it. It was time for drastic measures.

On his tiptoes, he approached her from behind. He looked around once, making sure the teacher was distracted – she’d already lectured him enough over the toad and the flowers – and that the other children were too preoccupied in their games and fights. Then, with a malicious smirk, he grabbed one of her curls and pulled.

Everything happened very fast.

The girl cried, jumped from her seat, dropping the doll, and turned around to glare at him with eyes brimming with tears that could not conceal the fury in her gaze.

‘I hate you! You’re mean, ugly and… and a pig!’

He wasn’t hurt. On the contrary, he was delighted to have her undivided attention. Besides, when she got angry her eyes gleamed and her pale cheeks turned pink, and he thought she no longer looked like a doll.

Smiling like he’d seen his dad do when he ‘made business’, he stretched his hand for her to shake.

‘I’m Chuck. And you?’

She gritted her teeth and her tiny hands balled into fists.

‘None of your business.0

She scrunched up her nose, as though there were a foul smell, and turned around. He started to run after her, but a boy with sandy hair and round face got between them.

‘Is it yours?’

The girl stopped and looked at the new boy, who has holding her doll.

‘Belle!’

The boy handed over the doll, and to Chuck’s shock the little girl gave him a dazzling smile in return.

‘I’m Nate. And you?’

The girl held the doll against her chest, hesitating.

‘I’m Blair,’ she said quietly. Nate held out his hand.

‘Do you want to go to the swings with me?’

Blushing, she nodded shyly and took his hand. Both of them walked away chattering, leaving behind a boy with dark hair and pointed features boiling from fury and also, from disappointment.

 

  1. **Disguise**



_Who doesn’t love a costume party, especially if it’s thrown in the UES’ glamorous style? The beautiful costumes, the spectacular decorations and expensive French champagne were the ingredients for a perfect soirée, but naturally a good scandal was needed to spice up the night. And, UES-siders, a scandal is what we had._

_But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Fortunately for you, Gossip Girl was there and now is going to fill you in with all the details. Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?_

The place? The Palace’s hall. The occasion: a fund-raising for the victims of an earthquake in Iran or perhaps Palestine (and anyway, who cares?), organized by none other than our favorite “It” Girl’s mom. Word has it that there are wedding bells ringing in the distance for Lily Van der Woodsen and Bart Bass (anyone knows what happened to that Brooklyn rocker? I guess he was left with a broken heart and an ex in Hudson).

_The hall was decorated with the future Mrs. Bart Bass’ impeccable taste, and the hotel’s chef offered his excellent food. As for the music, the hottest DJ in Manhattan was there, and if you don’t know his name then you clearly aren’t an UES-sider._

_But these are all irrelevant details. What truly interests us is who went with whom and that’s what I’m here for._

_Spotted: The not-so-Lonely Boy with Indiana Jones’ hat and whip. Apparently it’s the favorite movie from his childhood and as the great girlfriend she is, S obliged and dressed in khakis and a white knotted blouse that would have outshone Angelina Jolie herself in her Lara Croft outfit. Little J had dressed as a queen, wearing a beautiful dress and crown (who knows, perhaps her dream will one day come true… once S and B both abandon NY, that is), and was escorted by none other than Eric Van der Woodsen as a handsome Sir Lancelot. Do the Van der Woodsen and Humphrey siblings go out on double dates now? Thank goodness Lily dumped the rocker or they would’ve been the most endogamic family on  this side of the Hudson river._

_N was spotted as Gladiator, and like S with Lara Croft, he could have dethroned Russell Crowe. At least he’s got better temper. On his arm was seen a red-haired damsel dressed as an Ancient Greek lady. My sources tell me her name is Therese LeBlanc and that she goes to St. Catherine’s, Constance Billard’s rival school. Everyone knows that B and N are history since she dumped him three months ago, but apparently N hasn't gotten over it until very recently._

_It seems that Isabel and Kati read each other’s minds, because the former showed up dressed as Jasmine, escorted by her own Aladdin, and the latter as Mulan, escorted by a… samurai? Ninja? Who knows? In any case, they both looked beautiful on their dates’ arms and perhaps their choice wasn’t the most original one, but given the amount of Jack Sparrows seen that night it appears that several suffered from lack of  creativity._

_Keith Prescott and his new girlfriend (the one that used to be a Victoria’s Secret’s model, remember? I do) were dressed as Han Solo and Princess Leia, although it’s possible they confused them with Ross and Rachel. It wouldn’t be the first time._

_Geraldine Stravinsky, showing off a new haircut, dressed as Marilyn Monroe and was escorted by none other than JFK (who might have overdone it with the hair gel in my opinion). Oh, G, don’t try to hide it: we all know your blonde hair is as fake as your new nose._

_But all eyes were on the couple that never stopped dancing during the entire night, very cozy with each other. He was dressed as Zorro, mask included, and she had a red and black dress, a scarlet rose in her hair and a black veil that only let see her ruby lips. Nobody knew the identity of the mysterious couple and everyone was whispering about them, but they seemed lost in their own world. Personally, I was rather curious about it but can you believe this? None of my usual sources could give me a clue. The unthinkable had come to pass: the mysterious couple was a riddle to Gossip Girl herself._

_But, let me tell you, UES-siders, that Gossip Girl doesn’t easily give in. I’ve got my ways and I’m not ashamed to play dirty if the need arises. Alas, it was impossible to corner either of them on their own: they were glued to each other. But I’ve got a few tricks under my sleeve and salvation came in the shape of the award to the best costume, to be given at the end of the party. If our couple won, then they’d have no other choice but to reveal their identity._

_Don’t ask me how I pulled it off – no magician reveals his secrets – but let’s say that Gossip Girl might have affected the results of the voting. But that’s strictly between you and me, of course._

_Music came to a halt, the lights turned on and everybody paid attention. Lily Van der Woodsen went onto the stage and announced the winning couple. Everyone’s eyes sought the lovebirds among the crowd, and many laughs and gasps were heard when they were found having an intense making out session against a pillar, completely oblivious to their surroundings. A Tarzan placed his hand on Zorro’s shoulder, who looked rather annoyed at the interruption until he realized that everyone’s gaze was on them. The Spanish Lady’s cheeks became as red as her lipstick – BTW, I want to know where she bought it, because it hadn’t smeared a little bit – but Zorro smirked and took her to the stage by the hand. He took the tiara that Lily handed him and carefully placed it on his date’s head, then he took the mace and bowed to the crowd._

_For a moment, we all believed that the couple would not after all reveal their identity. Gossip Girl was seriously considering to take some drastic measures when Zorro removed his mask and revealed none other than Chuck Bass. There were surprised gasps everywhere (wasn’t he supposed to be still in Monaco?) but that was nothing compared to what happened next, when the Lady removed her veil… and Blair Waldorf appeared._

_There was absolute silence. The fall of a needle could’ve been heard clearly. Eleanor Waldorf’s eyes were about to come out of their sockets and she wasn’t the only one. Isabel’s and Kati’s mouths had fallen open, just like Not-So-Lonely Boy’s. Little J looked stunned as well, but not S. Apparently the BFF knew about  the most shocking affair of the year. There was someone else who didn’t look surprised and that was N. Kind of resigned, maybe, but not surprised. As for myself, you can bet that I was taken by surprise. Chuck Bass, the worst womanizer in the history of the Upper East Side and possibly all Manhattan, dating with our Ice Queen? Has the world gone mad?_

_Apparently yes, because everyone saw C wrapping his arms around B’s waist and giving her a kiss non-PG-13 rated. And do you know what was the greatest shock of all? Our B, always so worried about decorum, didn’t seem to mind one little bit._

_You know you love me._

_XOXO,_

_Gossip Girl._

 

 

 

 

## 24\. Control

 

At a young age, Blair Waldorf learnt that there were things she could not control.

She couldn’t make her mother put off her drawings and clothes so they could go to the park together, instead of sending her away with Dorota. It didn’t matter how many tantrums she threw, how many tears rolled down her cheeks. Her mother was always inflexible. She would look up only to shoot her a disapproving glare, saying that if she kept it up, her face would get wrinkled all over and she’d become such an ugly girl that no one would want to play with her.

She couldn’t make her dad come home early from work, even though she phoned him all the time and made up tummy aches. He’d always be understanding and he’d promise to make up for lost time during the weekend, but it wasn’t the same.

She couldn’t make her hair shine like a halo or laugh out loud like Serena, the girl all eyes were always fixed on. No matter how badly she wanted it, she couldn’t be carefree and run with reckless abandon, she couldn’t climb up trees or hug people on impulse just like her friend did, the girl everyone admired and seemed to love on instinct.

Her drawing never was the prettiest of the class, neither was her voice the loudest of the choir. She was never picked first when teams for any game were formed, she wasn’t invited to every birthday party.

She couldn’t prevent her parents from arguing in low whispers behind closed doors, nor stop her mother’s tears when her dad went missing for hours and returned smelling like some men cologne that wasn’t his own. She couldn’t stop him from finally leaving them behind, either.

There were many things Blair Waldorf couldn’t control. She learnt her lesson at a young age, and she also learnt that she had to try to control as many things as she could if she didn’t want to end up with a broken heart like her mother.

She learnt to calculate even the most insignificant details, to scheme and plot. She organized her life according to her carefully laid plans, she started to live by schedules, norms, rules. If she planned every detail, if she considered all pros and cons, if she fulfilled each one of her goals then nothing could go wrong. Nothing could destroy her castle in the sky, nobody could hurt her.

The plan was simple. Throw the best parties ever (so she would be so popular that all girls would want to be her friends and she’d never be left alone in a corner again), become the top student in every class (so her teachers would pay attention to her too), behave always as the perfect daughter (so her parents never ignored her ever again), marry the ideal boy (so she would never face her parents’ fate), go to Yale and turn into a socialite (so no one could ever step over her). She just had to follow the plan and everything would be perfect.

What Blair didn’t learn when she was a little girl, however, was that perfection never lasted forever. You could have a fleeting instant of pure beauty, a moment of absolute bliss, a heartbeat of peace and perfection, but that was it: an instant, a moment, a heartbeat that would be gone far too fast. Blair couldn’t, wouldn’t learnt it despite seeing her parents’ marriage crumble before her eyes, despite discovering cracks in her relationship with Nate, despite finding out that her best friend had betrayed her. Blair still believed she could reach perfection and that with perfection would come happiness, if only she paid attention to detail and followed her plan, if she made everyone move to her beat, if she pulled the right strings.

Blair had forgotten, though, that even the best laid plans could go awry, when little and unpredictable flaws that could shake the entire structure appear.

She never expected _him_ to be one of those flaws. He, who followed no rules but his own, who never had a long-term plan, who floated through life with reckless abandon. He, whose strings she couldn’t pull; he, who saw through all her schemes and deciphered her plots in the blink of an eye, who knew her too well to be fooled. She couldn’t handle him; she couldn’t make him behave the way she wanted him to. He didn’t fit in any of her plans, he wasn’t on her map. He was the only person she couldn’t figure out, the only one she couldn’t control.

It was unacceptable and therefore, she tried to rip him off her life as soon as possible.

But he was never willing to play her game and he created a new one instead, a game with rules that were foreign to her, perhaps because such rules didn’t exist, perhaps because they changed all the time just like the whirlwind of confused feelings he provoked, a whirlwind that obnubilated her senses and mined her reasoning.

One by one, he ruined her plans, messed up her goals. She should have hated him; she should have run away from him at the first chance. Anyone that could have such power over her with only a crooked smile, a glint in his eyes, a few words whispered in her ear, was dangerous and she’d played it safe her entire life.

She didn’t run away, though. She didn’t drive him away or scared him off. Because when his fingers slid down her back, when she felt his warm breath on her throat, when his lips covered inch by inch of her skin with kisses, Blair Waldorf felt truly alive for the first time.

Perhaps that wasn’t enough to gain perfection, perhaps it was its complete opposite… but it made losing control worthwhile.

 

 

 

## 15\. Reading (With me – Sum 41)

Chuck Bass is going to fail English.

His teacher has told him as much countless times now, and now she has decided to waste her time sending little warning notes to his father. Poor woman, she probably ignores that all school-related paperwork is handled by Mr. Bass’ secretary. He can’t be bothered by such trifle things.

Mrs. Sampson is an old harpy that’s not easily fooled, whose syllabus has remained unchanged since before Noe’s Arc, and for some reason she seems to loathe him. Maybe because he prefers to skip her lessons and smoke a joint under the benches or perhaps because he hasn’t handed in one single assignment since the term started. He isn’t sure and honestly, he doesn’t care. If he manages to get away from summer school, either by some miracle or his father’s influence, that’d be great. If he doesn’t, well, he’ll have to find someone willing to write his essays for him.

What no one knows, what no one will ever suspect, is that Chuck has read each one of the mandatory books, and probably understood them better than Mrs. Sampson herself, better than any of his classmates, including Humphrey. The only problem is that he can’t write his reports based on his impressions and hand them over to the teacher, because Chuck’s views on the subject reveal far too much of himself, more than he is willing to let anyone see.

Let’s start from the beginning: Jane Austen. Are all spinster English teachers infatuated with Jane Austen, or just Mrs. Sampson? Chuck couldn’t bring himself to watch the movie version of _Pride & Prejudice_, partly because Keira Knightley is as flat as a board, partly because he hates romantic movies and finally because Nate almost dies of a stroke when Blair forced him to watch it.

Mrs. Sampson didn’t make them read _Pride & Prejudice_. That would’ve been far too merciful. No, instead she forced them to read boredom incarnated, the indescribable horror named _Mansfield Park_.

Of all of Jane Austen’s heroines, Fanny Price must be the worst goody goody two-shoes in human history. Unbearably modest, incomprehensibly generous and incredibly quiet for a woman – she barely pronounces two phrases in the entire book – the girl watches how everyone _lives_ whereas she longs for her first cousin, who is as much of an idiot as she is. And then _Chuck_ is the disgusting, according to Blair.

For some unfathomable reason, the only two relatively interesting characters in the novel fall in love with insipid Fanny and her cousin, the impossibly nice and moronic Edmund. Chuck knows that Henry Crawford, an unrepentant womanizer, and his sister Mary, who just wants to climb the social ladder, are supposed to be the villains, but he can’t get it.

From his point of view, they’re the only characters who try to get what they want, whereas everyone else just whines. Maybe Mary is manipulative and selfish, maybe she’s more concerned about her friends’ opinion than about doing the right thing, but at least she’s relatively amusing and captivating, and if she cares about money and social status, who can blame her? As for Henry, if he proves that he’s willing to change his entire lifestyle for Fanny, why is he judged and ostracized just because a few past indiscretions? Who cares if he seduced some skanks in the past, if he truly loves Fanny? Why does Fanny still long for Edmund, who is so stupid that he’ll never realize what he’s missing because he’s too captivated by another woman?  Why is Edmund better than Henry who, despite his womanizing ways, would give anything for the woman he loves?

Chuck suspects that Mrs. Sampson wouldn’t share his point of view, as well as he is certain that the old lady would be very surprised if he told her that the real reason why Iago fills Othello’s head with false accusations of infidelity involving Desdemona and Cassio was because he himself desired Othello’s wife, and not because he envied Cassio’s promotion. It’s Iago the true victim of this tragedy, because all his plans blow up on his face when Othello murders Desdemona, but who mourns the wicked, who feels pity for the traitors? Who feels sorry for those willing to lie and manipulate to obtain their heart’s desire?

And if he must talk about Shakespeare’s plays, Chuck just can’t see what’s so funny about _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_. Perhaps because the tale of Lysander and Hermia, the young couple that has to elope because their match is not approved by their families, and that’s followed by Demetrius, who is in love with Hermia, and Helena, who is in love with Demetrius, is painfully familiar. If his life were a Shakespearean play, Serena and her Brooklyn boy would play the part of the young, misunderstood couple very much in love, whereas Nate would be Serena’s spurned lover and Blair would be Helena, eternally chasing a man who couldn’t care less about her, a man whose eyes are already set on another woman.

But his life isn’t a play and there’s no potion that will make Nate forget all about Serena and fall in love with Blair again. Assuming, of course, he was ever in love with her in the first place.

Naturally, as this is not a play but real life, Puck doesn’t just watch everything unfold from the sidelines, unaffected, complicating everyone’s lives just for the heck of it. No, instead Puck has no better idea than falling in love with Blair/Helena, only to get his own heart broken while trying to impress her.

And if he must ramble on parallelisms, then he should mention the Arthurian myths he’s been forced to read this year. How can everyone believe that King Arthur and Queen Guinevere are the ideal couple, if it’s obvious that Sir Lancelot is the one willing to go to the end of the world for her? Arthur’s best friend, no less, and the irony is not lost on Chuck.

He could write a thousand words on the subject, he could repeat over and over again that the nice guy is not necessarily the hero and anyway, who invented the stupid rule that the hero always get the girl? Why can’t she just hook up with the villain, for once? Why should any woman idealize a guy that has let her down over and over again, a guy who could never love her because he’s obsessed with another girl, a guy that doesn’t deserve her and never will?

But neither Mrs. Sampson nor anyone else would appreciate his opinions on the matter and even if they did, Chuck Bass is not the sort of person that pours his heart and soul into paper and ink, he’s not the kind of person that allows others to read the pages of his mind or decipher the language of his feelings.

Chuck Bass is going to fail English.

It’s surprising how little he cares.

 

 

  1. **Tobacco**



 

The kids in the UES are different from kids everywhere else. Whereas in the rest of the world teenagers decide to rebel against their parents, school or just the universe at large by drinking beer, smoking cigarettes or stealing their parents’ car keys, the children who come from the most exclusive zone of Manhattan invent their own type of rebellion. They down champagne and whiskey bottles as though it were Perrier water, they smoke pot in the school restroom and leave the cocaine for parties, and if they really want to piss their parents off, they escape for a weekend on the family yacht.

Chuck Bass is the UES’ favorite troublemaker, the worst womanizer in town, the guy who never turns down a chance to party. He has never bothered to learn the rules, much less follow them… but he’s never tried a cigarette and he’s only drunk beer once, in the best Irish pub in Manhattan. He found it so disgusting, though, that he’s never tasted it again.

Perhaps that’s why he is thunderstruck when he finds Blair Waldorf smoking a Marlboro in a restroom during a party.

He stares at her for a moment, his eyes wide open. At first he believes it’s merely a figment of his imagination, that the last martini he had is causing hallucinations. Soon, though, he realizes that is not the case: the girl in the tight black dress, with a velvet bow on her head and a cigarette on her lips is undoubtedly Blair, as shocking as it sounds. He could never mistake her for anyone else.

She doesn’t notice his presence, busy as she is smoking and coughing, her back turned to him. Rings of smoke come out of her mouth, creating a strange halo around her head.

‘Blair, what’re you doing?’

She  is far too dignified to flinch, but she blinks a couple of times in surprise. When her eyes meet his in the mirror, though, her expression becomes defiant.

‘I’m smoking, don’t you see?’

He narrows his eyes, suspicious.

‘And since when do you smoke?’

She shrugs and in that moment he notices her dress is a strapless that leaves her delicate shoulders on display. He swallows and avoids her gaze for a millisecond. Memories of a silky slip sliding down those very same shoulders flood his mind and he can almost feel her smooth skin burning under his fingertips.

‘You could’ve at least tried something a little more… I don’t know, _light_. Marlboro is not your style.’

She glances at the cigarette and lets out a sigh.

‘A guy gave it to me.’

‘Who?’ Chuck asks at once, feeling the sudden urge to smash this guy’s face. She rolls her eyes.

‘No one important.’

She keeps smoking, coughing less and less. She’s almost mastered a technique to avoid getting her precious shoes stained by ashes and Chuck can’t help wondering what might have triggered this. Blair Waldorf isn’t the rebellious type. She’s the Guardian of What’s Right and Proper, Queen of Tradition and Good Manners, the Model Daughter and Student. Perhaps she is no longer an innocent virgin, perhaps she’s manipulative and vindictive, but Blair is not the kind of person who breaks the rules. Instead she thrives upon creating them and forcing everyone else to follow. Whatever reason has driven her to cause herself a lung cancer (and ruin her teeth forever) must be grave indeed.

Chuck shouldn’t care. She told him clearly where her priorities lay and what his place in her life was, whereas he made sure she understood how little he cared about her opinion.

But both of them know that’s all a bunch of lies and self-denial, and tonight Chuck is not in the mood to keep pretending.

‘Blair, what’s wrong?’

She barely bites her lower lip and Chuck can almost read the reasons written all over her face. Nate’s still mad at her, Mommy ignores her as per usual, Daddy is in France with his boyfriend, Serena in Brooklyn with hers and she has lost her crown among their elitist circle of friends. Blair is nothing but predictable; however, she keeps fascinating Chuck in a way he cannot explain.

‘I’m so… tired,’ she whispers and Chuck almost misses her words because of the hellish racket going on at the other side of the door. ‘I’m tired of doing everything by the book just to get all my plans blown up on my face, I’m tired of worrying all the time, tired of caring about what everyone says…’ Her eyes are fixed on the mirror in front of her but she doesn’t seem to see neither her reflection nor Chuck’s. ‘I just wanted to forget about all of it for a while, I guess. Be someone else, do things differently. I don’t know. Stop being… myself, I guess.’

_Why, Blair? You’re the only one that matters in this place, in this entire city._

Chuck hastens to push that treacherous thought out of his mind.

‘Don’t you think there are better ways to relax? I don’t know, maybe getting drunk or smoking a joint or wait, if you really want to rebel, why don’t you try some coke?’

She rolls her eyes without turning around to face him.

‘Everyone does that.’

‘So now lung cancer is original?’

She opens her mouth to reply, but thinks better of it. Now she’s staring at the cigarette with a dubious look in her eyes.

‘No one gets cancer after smoking only one cigarette,’ she says but he notes she doesn’t take it to her lips again. He arches an eyebrow.

‘Probably not. What about your teeth, though?’

She frowns and meets his gaze in the mirror.

‘What about my teeth?’

He adopts a nonchalant air, placing his hands inside his pockets.

‘Well, they’ll get yellow, which won’t photograph well. As for your breath… I’d rather not talk about it.’

Now Blair does look horrified, but she still won’t get rid of the cigarette. It occurs to Chuck that to her it might symbolize the freedom she never enjoys, the rebellion she doesn’t dare to manifest. He can imagine then how hard it must be for her to let go this small act of rebellion, this little act of defiance, no matter how silly and insignificant it might actually be.

‘If you want to do something different, something… liberating,’ he says and she looks up, ‘why don’t you try something more fun?’

She eyes his reflection with a suspicious glint in her dark eyes.

‘Like what?’

‘Well, I don’t know. We could start by leaving the lamest party of the century and go to somewhere more entertaining.’

She rolls her eyes and scrunches up her nose.

‘I’m so not getting into your limo ever again, Bass.’

He shrugs.

‘We could walk.’

‘It’s raining.’

‘So what? It’s summertime.’

She lets the ashes fall into the sink, pensive.

‘And where would we go?’

Chuck has no idea, so he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

‘We could go to the park. You’ve always loved the swings.’

For the first time she turns to look at him directly, her chocolate eyes now huge in surprise.

‘You remember?’

‘How could I forget? You forced me to push you when Nate wouldn’t.’

‘Liar’ she replies at once, almost pouting. ‘I was perfectly capable of swinging by myself.’

‘I didn’t say you couldn’t, just that you _wouldn’t_. Even then you liked to boss everyone around.’

She gives him a weak smile and he smiles back. _What’s going on?_ They’re supposed to loathe each other, they’ve ruined each other’s lives, they swore they would never speak to each other again. However, here they are, Blair looking like the broken, eternally sad doll she is, while he desperately tries to make her smile as though his life depended on it and maybe, maybe it does.

‘And what would we go to the park for, besides the swings?’

He decides to play along.

‘We could have some ice-cream…’

Shockingly, she doesn’t hasten to point out that those things aren’t low fat, but she merely says:

‘Chuck, it’s 2 AM.’

He smiles.

‘Blair, this is New York. There must be an ice-cream shop open somewhere and if that’s not the case, we can always steal some from the hotel’s kitchen. What do you say?’

She seems to hesitate, the cigarette dying between her fingers, a rebellious curl escaping from her bun, framing her delicate face. He waits for her answer, almost but not quite holding his breath. He can almost, almost picture it…

_She is walking under summer’s light rain, without worrying about her perfect hair or her make up and he is by her side, wrapping her bare shoulders with his jacket, not caring if it gets ruined. The two of them are racing on the streets, pushing each other around just like they used to do as children, mocking and bantering as always. Her heels sink in the mud as they walk across the park, his laughter loud and light when he pictures the look on Dorota’s face when she cleans them, her laughter soon joining his. Her brown curls floating in the wind as she swings higher and higher, Chuck always  by her side, always trying to reach her, their feet grazing the sky…_

And then, both of them walking under New York’s lights, ice-cream melting inside their mouths, her warm hand clutched between his and perhaps later…

She puts out what’s left of her cigarette by pressing it against the sink and leaves it there.

‘Thanks for the offer, but I have to go. I promised Kati that I’d dance at least once with her brother. See you.’

And before he can utter another word, Blair leaves the room, the Ice Queen’s mask back in its place, with its plastic smile and its dull eyes. Chuck watches her walk away, the magic from a moment ago suddenly dissolving under the fluorescent lights.

He swallows and his mask is back in place too. Just like Blair, he has a reputation to maintain. He might be considered the Upper East Side’s rebel, but the truth is that Chuck is as bound by what everyone expects from him as Blair is.

He is heading outside the restroom, intent on getting himself drunk and finding a girl to spend the night with when his eyes fall upon the cigarette. On impulse, he grabs it and puts it in his pocket. He can’t explain why it seems so important to save a souvenir from this night, but Chuck Bass rarely questions himself.

With one last glance at the mirror, Chuck readies himself to carry his own chains again, taking with him the reminder of Blair Waldorf’s last act of rebellion.

 

 

  1. **Writing**



 

Blair,

 

What the hell is this supposed to mean? Serena tells me you left for France to spend the last term with your father. Did you suddenly realize that you missed him or you’re running away like everyone else? If it’s the latter, I gotta tell you that it’s a rather unoriginal strategy, Serena beat you at it last year and if you want my opinion –

 

-

 

Blair,

 

How long do you plan to keep it up? If you thought that by running away all the gossip and scandal would magically disappear, you got it all wrong. Your flight to France ~~(because that’s what it is, isn’t it? You fled like everyone else)~~ only made things worse. You should hear what Gossip Girl and all those bimbos that read her have to say about it. You should’ve seen how ~~that bitch of~~ Hazel smirked when she found out you were gone and Little J was literally bouncing. I’m telling you, they’re having the time of their lives now that you’re gone, taking advantage of your absence to steal your place. Don’t be surprised if Brooklyn’s Blondie ends up as the chairwoman of the Social Committee and Hazel runs for Class President. Would you like that, Blair? Would you like to see the position that took you years to build stolen by a pair of –

 

-

 

Blair,

 

Okay, I get it. You spent years maintaining your reputation of a goody-goody two shoes, a perfect, immaculate queen and suddenly it was all torn apart ~~and okay, it might have been mostly my fault but that’s not the point~~. I understand that you might’ve felt ~~hurt~~ furious, but this is absurd. It’s been ~~two months and three weeks~~ quite a while since you left, get over it.

There have been enough scandals since then, several provoked by ~~your humble servant~~ me and do you think anyone’s life is over because of it? Or is there something else that prevents you from coming back? Is this because of Nate? Because I’m telling you, if that’s the case you’re wasting your time, ~~he’s not worth it~~ I don’t think putting distance between you and him is the answer. That in the case he hasn’t forgiven you already, because let’s admit it, Nate’s memory is not that great ~~and he can be easily persuaded if you’d just try.~~ Anyway, I don’t even know why you bother, it’s not like he ~~ever cared about you~~ had a clean record. And let’s be honest, Blair, he might be my best friend but, what’s so wonderful about ~~your perfect gentleman~~ him as a boyfriend? He was never there for you to back up your plans or to listen when your parents had had an argument or when Serena left you all alone. You never were his priority, he never loved you ~~as he should have and you know as well as I do that he never deserved you~~ but of course, you’re still obsessed with your Prince Charming dream and you still hope –

 

-

 

Blair,

 

When will you come back? I thought you needed some time to calm down, to regroup and plan your counterattack, but it’s been ~~too many~~ months and not a whisper on your return. Are you staying in Lyon until the school year ends? What kind of crap is that? It’s not even Paris ~~and you belong to Manhattan.~~

Or you don’t plan to come back? Are you really leaving everything behind just because of a stupid scandal no one remembers anyway? It’s moronic ~~and you’re not a moron.~~ You know that an attack is the best defense. ~~Come back, Blair.~~ You should destroy them all instead of lying low at the other end of the ocean. You’re ~~better~~ smarter than that. If you’re worried about Hazel, ~~I can think of several ways~~ there are many ways to dethrone her. As for Little J, don’t tell me you’re scared of such an amateur ~~that isn’t even worth of your Jimmy Choos~~. Why don’t you crush her and everyone else, ~~that I’d gladly help you~~ it would be a piece of cake. Why don’t you –

 

-

 

Blair,

 

~~What’s this bullshit about~~

~~Is it true that you’re~~

~~You’re not considering staying in France because of that~~

Serena tells me you’ve found ~~a new puppet to manipulate~~ _someone_. A student in La Sorbonne, no less. Law school, right? ~~You’re so predictable.~~

Are you kidding me? All that whining over Nate and you’ve just forgotten him ~~and me too~~? Does he also believe you’re a virgin or you’ve stopped being a frigid hypocrite?

Look, you can do whatever the hell you want, I couldn’t care less ~~and it’s not like I’m waiting for you or something, just so you know.~~

Did Daddy introduce you two? If that’s so, I’d be a tad suspicious but, of course, after doing Nate probably you didn’t even realize the diff –

 

-

 

Blair,

 

~~I’m sorry.~~

What did you expect me to say, Blair? You ~~pushed me away~~ went back to Nate over and over again, and you turned to me only because you had no one else left. You didn’t even try to hide it. I was your ~~consolation prize~~ last resort to salvage your reputation and you didn’t care in the slightest what I could ~~feel~~ think about it. Did you really expect me to take it in stride? Did you expect me to be like ~~your perfect gentleman~~ Nate? I’m not like that and you’ve always known it, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked for my help every time you wanted revenge on Serena or whatever chick had pissed you off that week. You know that I’m ~~just like you~~ not a nice guy, that I don’t like to be toyed with, ~~not even by you.~~

Do you want me to apologize ~~on my knees~~? Would that be sufficient for you to recover your common sense ~~and come back here~~?

Well, that’s not my thing. You know that as well as I do. But ~~if I hadn’t other choice~~ I can tell you that I ~~never believed a single word~~ don’t believe anymore what I said that night. I was pissed off ~~and fuck, Blair, what did you expect?~~ I spoke without thinking and since when do you care about what ~~I have to~~ anyone else has to say? Oh, sorry, I forgot: you’re obsessed with everyone’s opinion of you. You and your precious reputation. Don’t you think there are more important things? Like living your own life, for instance?

Don’t tell me you’re happy stuck in that vineyard, because I ~~don’t want to~~ can’t believe it. That’s not you, Blair. You were born to live in the UES, to be always in the spotlight, you’re the Queen B ~~and I don’t care a shit what Hazel and her gang of sluts might say, none of them can take your place~~. You can’t leave it all behind just like that. Didn’t you want to graduate as the top student at Constance Billards? What about your dreams of going to Yale?

What about your mother? I don’t see her much but I bet she misses you, not to mention Dorota or Serena. Are you really ditching ~~us~~ them all? The Upper East Side needs you, Blair, without you everything’s so ~~lonely~~ boring.

Come back, Blair. ~~Please~~. It’s time, don’t you think? Forget what happened – or don’t, but just come back, come back to ~~me~~ the place you belong.

 

-

 

Chuck Bass’ classmates see him scribble on his notebook, but none of them believes he’s taking notes on anything school-related. They snicker among themselves, certain as they are that Chuck is listing the phone numbers of all the chicks at school and the rest of Manhattan. Or maybe he’s calculating the amount of alcohol he’ll purchase for next Saturday’s party. Chuck Bass can always be trusted to keep his priorities straight.

At the end of the school year the book ends up at the bottom of a drawer, where maybe one day a maid will find it. Perhaps she’ll entertain herself for a few minutes reading the drafts of all those e-mails never sent, but probably the notebook will just end up in the trashcan without a second thought from its owner.

 

 

  1. **Porn**



 

‘Bass, this is gross.’

Chuck arches an eyebrow.

‘What did you expect? _The Notebook_? _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_?

Blair scrunches up her nose. She’s sitting on the edge of his bed, her legs carefully crossed like she’s been taught, her hands placed on her lap. Her school uniform is spotless and pristine, not a single wrinkle on her skirt, her blouse buttoned all the way up to her neck. She’s Constance Billards’ model student incarnated, all correction and purity, the embodiment of good breeding and traditional values. Chuck’s eyes go from her to the TV screen and he almost bursts into laughter. There’s nothing less puritan and correct than the movie playing on the DVD set, nothing farther from perfect and proper Blair than the deafening moans and grunts coming from the TV.

‘I didn’t expect a masterpiece, Bass, but I didn’t think it would be in such poor taste either. For Heaven’s sake, you can see from a mile away that those tits are fake; she looks like an inflatable doll.

‘Miss Waldorf, I never thought I’d hear you utter a word as crude and coarse as “tits”. And anyway, how the hell do you know what an inflatable doll’s tits look like?’ he asks in a cheeky tone. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’

She condescends to turn her headlong enough to glare at him and then her eyes return to the screen, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. She tilts her head to one side, as though she were trying to decipher a foreign language. Chuck entertains himself by watching her, her hair pulled into an elegant bun, her tightened jaw, the curve of her lips. He remembers the taste of those full lips, opening for him in the backseat of his limo; he remembers tracing the contour of her jaw with his tongue, he remembers his fingers entangled in her chocolate curls. The moaning coming from the TV set sounds artificial and grotesque when he compares it to her soft purring in his ear, the soft sigh escaping from her crimson lips when he took her.

‘It’s ridiculous’ Blair blurts out, pulling him out of his reverie. Chuck doesn’t bother to glance at the screen.

‘What’s ridiculous, Waldorf?’

‘The plot,’ she replies, completely serious. Chuck stares at her, astonished, but she doesn’t seem to notice. ‘Who calls a plumber at midnight? And, c’mon, a _plumber_? I can’t think of anything less hot than that.

‘Plot,’ Chuck mumbles. ‘You’re concerned about the _plot_.’

Blair shrugs.

‘Well, I’m not asking for an intricate storyline’ she explains. ‘But at least something that’s not utterly ridiculous.’

He rolls his eyes.

‘Blair, no one gives a shit about the plot.’

‘What, are they all like this?’

Chuck feels the sudden urge to hit his head against the wardrobe. Several times. He wonders, not for the first time, why he agreed to show Blair his collection of movies with “adult-content” when she insisted on it. He suspects that he was too distracted by her temptingly pursed lips to pay any attention to what she was asking him.

She keeps studying the screen, almost as though she expected some kind of revelation. One particular scene makes her snort in incredulity.

‘No one can do that. You’d break both legs just for trying it.’

For the first time, Chuck’s lips curve into a wide grin.

‘Wanna try?’

She flinches and glares at him.

‘I should’ve known,’ she says through gritted teeth. ‘I bet you watch these… _movies_ so you can role play later with your skanks.’

Chuck places all his weight on his elbow on the mattress, leaning towards her.

‘And you aren’t curious?’ he asks, whispering in her ear.

She snorts and rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t turn away from him.

‘Please. Crude fantasies are your thing, not mine.’

Chuck thinks there’s no need to tell her that he hasn’t watched this particular movie since he was thirteen. No need to tell her, either, that his fantasies have long ago stopped being starred by fake blondes with unnatural breasts to be replaced by delicate, white hands, deliciously pursed lips, chocolate curls escaping from a tight bun, smooth skin underneath a silky slip. There’s no need to tell her that in the last weeks there’s been only one movie playing over and over again inside his head, more thrilling and intoxicating than the most exotic sexual fantasies ever filmed.

A soft purring in his ear, followed by faint moans and sighs, her chest going up and down due to her agitated breathing, the silky straps sliding down her shoulders, the lacy underwear discarded on the floor, a delicate face framed by dark, messy curls, her slender fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt…

Those are the images and sounds that trouble his dreams now, more intense and terrible because he can also remember her flowery perfume mixed with the smell of leather filling his nose, he can remember her skin burning under his hands, which explored inch by inch that fragile body that trembled under his touch. He remembers the sensual movement of her hips, her legs around his waist, the taste of her mouth, her frantic heart beating.

No, there’s no need for Blair to find out how much she has disturbed his sleeping and waking hours, how much she has disrupted all of his schemes because it’s the first time that Chuck Bass, after fulfilling his own desire with a girl, is willing to fulfill all of her fantasies as well.

 

 

  1. **Revenge**



 

‘It’s a business deal.’

Phrased like that it sounds extremely simple and clear. Familiar, even. Blair has grown up seeing her father make deals with clients and DA’s, listening to her mother arrange contracts and prices. Business’ ABC is taught at a young age in the Upper East Side. How to get the best deal with a minimal cost is something children learn in kindergarten, and Blair Waldorf has always been the top student in her class.

She hesitates, though. Lately her reflexes haven’t been as sharp, her natural cool head has been troubled by failure and disappointment, and her choices have been far from brilliant. She has to thread on very carefully, for she is stepping on thin ice and her Manolos can’t take another fall.

She tilts her head to one side, watching attentively the young man in front of her. He looks calm, confident. Blair narrows her eyes, trying to find in his gaze a flicker of deceit, to discover in his gestures something that gives him away; she tries to glimpse a future betrayal in the lines around his mouth. There’s nothing suspicious in his green jacket or his neatly pressed shirt, no alarms go off in her brain when she notes his stance, relaxed and attentive at once.

Can she trust him, though? He’s got the worst reputation of all Manhattan, so bad it’s almost legendary. He has never cared about anyone but himself; his only interest in life is having all the fun he can. He’s her exact opposite. She’s correction incarnated, her life is carefully planned since as long as she can remember, whereas he goes wherever the wind may take him, wherever his vices and whims carry him. What could they have in common?

It’s a business deal.

What’s she got to lose by listening to him?

‘What’s the plan, exactly?’

He smiles, aware he’s piqued her interest, but when he leans in to talk his tone is absolutely professional.

‘Look, it’s a known fact that your reputation has suffered a… blow.’

 _No kidding_ she thinks, barely able to refrain herself from snorting. He doesn’t even blink.

‘You used to be Constance Billards’ Queen, the girl everyone looked up to. It was your opinion what mattered; no one dared to sneeze without your approval.’

Blair bites her lip, because her wounds are far too recent and they still hurt as though it were the first day, when her world fell apart. However, she keeps her head held high.

Business.

He leans forward a little more, his voice dropping a few octaves, his eyes fixed on hers.

‘You lost your crown, Blair. No, you didn’t lose it: it was stolen from you. They stabbed you in the back and in the blink of an eye they took from you what had taken you years to gain.’ His tone goes back to normal as he straightens in his seat. ‘It wasn’t fair.’

‘And when did you start to care about fairness?’

‘I could tell you that I care when a lady as lovely as you are is involved, but I know you’re far too smart to fall for that.’

Nothing on Blair’s face shows she has heard a compliment, but he doesn’t seem bothered at all.

‘That’s why I came to you. You’re cold and calculating, you are not easily scared off… and you don’t let morals get in your way. You and me, we’re not so different after all.’

This time Blair lets out a snort and rolls her eyes before she can help it.

‘You and me are nothing alike.’

He smirks.

‘You’re wrong on that one. We didn’t use to be alike… but now you’ve fallen to the bottom of the social ladder, and even though you don’t want to admit it, you’re gonna need some help to climb up again.’ His smirk turns suggestive. ‘I could offer you my help.’

‘In exchange for what?’ Blair asks, tense. He lowers his gaze and stirs his coffee, trying to feign nonchalance and not quite managing it.

‘Well… you might not be the only one who needs to improve their reputation.’

Blair arches an eyebrow as he sips his coffee. Of everyone in the Upper East Side, he’s the last person she would have imagined worried over his reputation. When he looks up he sees the question in her eyes and he shrugs.

‘Let’s say that some of my last adventures have reached my father’s ears… and he’s threatened me to freeze my bank account unless I prove myself to be,’ he makes air quotes ‘“respectable”’

He rolls his eyes and Blair frowns.

‘Do you really think he’d do that?’

If there’s one thing parents in the UES would never dare to do is leave their children without money, afraid as they are that other people might think they’re no longer able to pay for their offspring’s extravagancies. It’s preferable to become a negligent parent than to be seen as a poor one, and children in the UES learn that lesson fast.

His face contorts in distaste.

‘He has a new official girlfriend now, as you already know, and apparently he wants to give the impression he’s a good parent or some bullshit like that. Anyway,’ he adds, the professional tone back in his voice ‘I thought I could start by fixing my reputation as a… womanizer, let’s say, and get myself a proper girlfriend.’ He smirks. ‘Can you think of anyone more perfect for the role than you, Constance Billards’ model student, the social committee chairwoman and the prime example of a proper lady?’

Blair sips her orange juice – absolutely horrid but that’s the price to pay when you pick a bar far away from the UES just to avoid Gossip Girl’s prying eyes – and ponders on her answer.

‘You’re aware that my reputation is not what it used to be.’

He dismisses her words with a wave of his hand.

‘My father won’t pay any attention to the rumors started by a bunch of thirteen-year-old girls with PMS. He’ll take a look at your perfect grades, your spotless outfit and your ladylike manners and he’ll be content with that. He’s not that attentive to detail, to be honest.’

‘And what’s in it for me?’

‘You mean, what do you get for being my official girlfriend?’

For a mere second, his smirk turns smug and his look, lecherous, but soon his mask of cool indifference is back in place.

‘Well, for starters, I know many secrets about your classmates – enough to ruin any of them forever. And, let’s be honest… It won’t hurt to make them believe you have a steady boyfriend and you’re not screwing around.’

‘I’m not screwing around!’ she exclaims, furious, and the entire bar turns to stare at them. Blair grits her teeth. _Great, all I need is some jackass with a camera phone to send the picture to Gossip Girl._

But none of Gossip Girl’s lackeys would ever set foot in this bar, so at least they’re safe from that. Blair tries to regain her composure and maybe a little bit of her dignity. For once, he shows enough decency not to laugh at her face, although his eyes sparkle with repressed laughter.

‘An official boyfriend won’t help my reputation that much if he’s a jerk that jumps every girl in town and is drunk at all hours,’ she hisses through gritted teeth. ‘I can’t be seen with just anyone, you know.’

His face turns suddenly serious.

‘Blair, my father might not pay that much attention to detail, but if I am “jumping every girl in town”, as you put it, and drunk at all times he’ll see right through our charade and I can say goodbye to my trust fund. No, if we want this to work out we have to act as the perfect couple for a while. What do you say?’

Blair hesitates. If she’s honest to herself, her schemes to get back her social status are not going according to plan. Serena helps her out as much as she can, but plotting has never been her thing and Hazel seems to be supported by the whole damn school. Blair is sick of the whispering that follows her everywhere, sick of the smug looks and the sardonic snickering she gets all the time, she’s so sick of sitting all by herself when Serena spends time with Cabbage Patch and even sicker of spending weekends at home all alone. She has to make her move and make it fast, and for that she needs a Machiavellian mind on her side.

Blair considers her accomplice. There’s no doubt he’s attractive and he can play the part of the perfect gentleman when he feels like it. He can dazzle anyone who is not familiar with his devious ways and envy will rot several girls from the inside out when they find out that Blair is his first – and only – official girlfriend. Everyone will think Blair’s found the perfect date and the fall from grace will soon be a reality for Hazel and her sidekicks.

They agree on some crucial points. It’s a business deal and anything but the strictest professionalism is out of the question. None of them is particularly sentimental so that’s not an issue. Blair can’t picture herself feeling anything for someone like him, and she’s convinced that he’s physically incapable of caring about anyone but himself.

If they want this charade to work, they must become the perfect couple. Sweet and tender in public, but always showing enough restraint so as not to make their parents worry. Blair lists all the duties expected from a boyfriend, given his total lack of knowledge on the subject. He doesn’t look overwhelmed: pretending to be something’s he’s not has always been second nature to him. Buying flowers and walking hand in hand doesn’t sound like a terrible sacrifice when he considers the possibility of facing a future without his father’s financial support.

She holds out her hand for him to shake.

‘Deal?’

He arches an eyebrow, a half-smile curving his lips.

‘Shouldn’t we seal the deal with a kiss?’

She rolls her eyes.

‘Don’t push it.’

An amused glint sparkles in his eyes as he shakes her small, delicate hand.

‘It wouldn’t even cross my mind.’

The most dangerous alliance has been forged in the Upper East Side and no one is prepared for the upcoming hurricane.

 

-

 

Outside school the students are gathered in small groups, strategically divided according to their social standing. Her new court surrounds Hazel, with her pets at her side, Little J and Penelope. Every now and then they shoot nasty looks at Blair, who has no other choice but endure Brooklyn’s company if she wants to be with Serena. Today, though, there’s a shield protecting her from all the snide remarks and jokes from her classmates. She has the upper hand, they just don’t know it yet and she can’t wait to show them.

A warm breath grazes her ear, giving her goosebumps.

‘How are you, beautiful?’

Blair turns around with a dazzling smile and her eyes meet with her co-conspirator’s gaze. She is pleased to see he has taken special care with his appearance today, and if she didn’t know him as well as she does one of his smiles would be enough to weaken her knees.

Blair is not an idiot, though, so she keeps her head clear. She jumps into his arms, still smiling.

‘Never been better.’

Over his shoulder, Blair can see Hazel’s astonished expression and the looks of surprise and awe in the other girls’ eyes when he wraps one of his arms around her waist and pets her hair with his free hand.

‘What do you say about going to Butter tonight?’

Not even Audrey Hepburn would’ve been able to look as charming and delighted as Blair does when she says she would love to. He takes her by the hand and offers a polite greeting to Cabbage Patch, who looks utterly confused, and Serena, who gives Blair a worried look. Her friend doesn’t agree with her plan, but it’s needless to say that Blair can take care of herself.

‘See you later, S. See you never, Cabbage Patch.’

And they start to walk away when inspiration strikes Blair and she grabs his arm.

‘Do you want to make this really convincing?’

He raises an eyebrow.

‘What’s on your mind, Waldorf?’ he whispers and she smiles as she stands on her tiptoes and kisses him in front of the entire school.

He gets it at once and soon the kiss turns into something out of a movie when he sweeps off her feet and she tangles her fingers in his hair.

Once it’s over they are both breathless but Blair’s mind keeps working a thousand miles an hour as her eyes scan the crowd. She sees the astonishment on Humphrey’s face (he’ll never know how things work at the UES), Serena’s apprehensive look (she’ll never understand that sometimes drastic measures must be taken to achieve your goals), the envy in Hazel’s and her lackeys’ eyes (soon to be dethroned) and at last, her gaze searches the two boys standing at the other side of the yard.

Nate’s jaw has fallen open and his eyes have widened (Blair hopes it hurts, like it hurt her when he didn’t want to listen to her, when he wouldn’t give her a second chance when she gave him so many). He looks as though a bolt of lightning had struck him. His face starts to turn crimson and Blair wonders whether he’ll explode or burst into flames right there. She can’t decide which option she prefers.

But her eyes don’t stay on Nate for long, because almost at once her gaze searches for the boy with the scarf and bloodshot eyes. His hands are clenched in fists, his knuckles have turned white and he seems to be trembling from repressed fury. Their eyes meet and Blair can see in them a scorching wrath, such deep hatred that could consume her.

Blair gives him a dazzling smile and takes Carter Baizen’s arm as they walk away from school, the burning look in Chuck Bass’ eyes forged in her retinas.

War has just begun in the Upper East Side, and Blair Waldorf can’t wait for the moment heads start to roll.

 

 

 **Warnings:** There’s cursing, drug  & alcohol abuse and above all things, spoilers for 1x15 ‘Desperately Seeking Serena’ _although_ this is kinda AU.

 

  1. **Hell**



 

Georgina Sparks is diabolical.

And not the kind of diabolical that can be fun. She’s diabolical in the way she’s manipulative, cruel, unscrupulous and she shows a love for destruction that could be compared to the combined force of two atomic bombs or a tsunami. She causes trouble wherever she goes, any place she sets foot on is turned into a battlefield, chaos is her middle name. She swears she just wants to have fun and perhaps it’s true, but the only kind of fun she knows is the sort that ends in tears, overdoses and charges filed at the police station.

More than once he’s been told that Georgina Sparks is his doppelgänger, a female, blue-eyed version of himself. Even Gossip Girl has commented on her stupid blog that the King and Queen of Mayhem should’ve been the best of friends.

Like many of the things that nosy loser writes on her lame blog, it’s absolutely moronic, because Georgina Sparks and Chuck Bass have been sworn enemies since the world started spinning and UES’ kids go to parties. Some people talk about an incident when they were in kindergarten involving an ink tank that somehow crashed on the back of Georgina’s head, right after she mocked him because neither of his parents went to any of his school meetings. Others still remember that one time at camp when they were in fourth grade, when she managed to lock him up in the girls’ dressing room without his clothes, years before the situation could have any appeal for him. Even less people know about some of the humiliations they’ve inflicted on each other through the years and the parties, and there might be a thing or two about them that no one will ever know about.

The reasons, however, are irrelevant. Georgina is a hurricane that tears everything apart and no matter what people might say, Chuck has never been interested in destruction just for the sake of it. Even though he conceals it under snide remarks and a constant flow of alcohol, Chuck enjoys some order in his life, order that goes against the universe but it’s order all the same. He doesn’t like to see it broken by an external force. He will never forgive Blair Waldorf all the chaos she provoked at Victrola that night – or all its subsequent nights, for that matter – just to walk away and leave him picking up the broken pieces.

He won’t forgive her either that she used him just to throw him away afterwards or that she turned down the only honest offer he’s ever made to a girl in his entire life, but that’s not the point.

Georgina Sparks is diabolical. She can turn everyone’s lives into a living hell in the blink of an eye, and Chuck isn’t really surprised that he’s gotten thrown out of the family penthouse because of the presents she sent Serena. Somehow, she’s always managed to screw up his life without even trying.

That’s why he doesn’t feel surprised when Serena calls him to tell him that her night out with Georgina has taken a turn for the worse. Perhaps it should surprise him that she’s called him of all people for help, but it’s not the first time and Chuck suspects it won’t be the last, because Serena has never learnt to deal with Georgina Sparks. And who else could Serena call? Saint Humphrey? The always-proper Blair? Just the thought makes him laugh out loud.

If he knew what he’s about to find, he wouldn’t laugh so much, though.

It doesn’t take him long to get to the club Serena told him, and the never-ending line at the front door is irrelevant because he’s a Bass and they let him in at once.

The place is packed with people and even Serena Van der Woodsen’s golden head is hard to distinguish among the crowd. For a fleeting instant he wonders why he’s coming to his soon-to-be stepsister’s rescue. If anyone asked, he’d say that he just wants to be in her good graces so he can sleep with her and break the last taboo on his list. However, the truth is slightly less twisted and interesting. He hates Georgina Sparks with a passion and he would do anything to screw her, whereas he’s never actually disliked Serena in spite of what most people might think. Perhaps he enjoys making her suffer, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t miss her a little when she went off to boarding school – Serena always created such hilarious messes – and he suspects that’s where she’ll end up once Georgina is done with her… or in the worst case scenario, rehab.

Serena finds him first and by the way she keeps tripping over her own feet and zigzagging he guesses she’s already downed more than one drink. However, he’s surprised when he sees she’s not wearing the goofy grin that means she’s drunk out of her mind, on the verge of table-dancing and maybe-sleeping-with-her-best-friend’s-boyfriend. Actually, Serena looks worried. Almost scared.

‘Oh, Chuck, thank goodness you’re here, I was going nuts.’

Under normal circumstances Chuck would’ve seized his chance to deliver a lecherous remark or two, but the anxiety in Serena’s voice and the fear in her eyes set off the alarms in his brain.

‘Where’s Georgina?’

‘No idea, I think she left with some guy,’ Serena replies, twisting her hands. ‘It’s not her I’m worried about, it’s Blair.’

Chuck’s certain he’s misunderstood her, because there’s no way Georgina and Blair can stay in a radius of several miles without trying to kill each other. If there’s one thing Chuck and Blair have always got in common was their mutual hatred for Georgina. And their mutual fondness of Nate. And the love for Machiavellian plots and the lack of scruples, and Chuck really shouldn’t be thinking about this.

‘Blair? What’s Blair doing here?’

Serena bites her lower lip, looking somewhat guilty.

‘It’s just that when Georgina asked me to go out for drinks I asked Blair to come with me, because you know what Georgina’s like, she wasn’t going to let me have just one drink and she was going to keep pushing and I wouldn’t have been able to say no to her and you can bet I would have kept drinking and drinking until I ended up on the floor so I asked Blair to come so she could, you know, stop me from doing anything stupid and back then it seemed like a good idea but now I guess it really wasn’t.’

Serena blurts it all out without stopping to breathe and after Chuck can finally process it all he rolls his eyes, because it’s damn obvious that Blair hasn’t done a good job. Serena might still be conscious, but she’s far from being sober.

‘And where is Blair now?’

Serena tries to turn around but trips over her own feet and Chuck has to grab her arm so she doesn’t fall on top of some Paris Hilton’s clone. The girl’s skin has a greenish hue now and Chuck swears that he’ll leave her to her own devices if she throws up on his shoes. Serena regains her balance and the control of her stomach, though, and points to the bar. Chuck’s gaze follows her finger and he finds Blair perched on top of some guy’s lap, a guy who seems to be at least thirty-five years old and whose hand is dangerously moving upwards on her thigh.

A knot forms in his stomach and he feels the sudden urge to break something, anything, but he swallows back bilis as well as he can.

‘Oh. I see she’s having a better time than you.’

Serena recovers enough coordination to elbow him. Hard.

‘Don’t you get it, Chuck? Blair’s not fine; she’s acting all weird. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but ten minutes ago she wanted to take off her blouse in front of everybody and before that she tried to snatch the mic from the DJ so she could sing “Bleeding Love”. And it was the remix version and you know how much she hates it.’

Chuck understands at once the seriousness of the current situation, because it might not be the first time Blair strips in public, but it’s a worldly known fact that Blair Waldorf will never sing if there’s anyone listening. It’s like asking her to wear football gear or a cowboy hat: it’s just not possible.

Chuck takes long strides towards Blair, who seems unaware of her new friend’s wandering hands, whereas Serena tries to keep up with him without hitting her forehead against the floor. By the time they reach the bar his pulse is racing due to repressed fury and his hands are clenched in fists so tight that he’ll get red marks all over his palms. Paying no attention to Blair’s giggles, he grabs her by the arm and pulls her off the guy’s lap, and then he pushes her towards Serena, who can barely catch her.

‘Hey!’ Blair exclaims, but he ignores her because the guy has just stood up and he’s at least two feet – okay, maybe just one – taller than Chuck, with ham-like arms and a rather unhappy look on his face.

 _Well, he’d better,_ thinks Chuck, because he doesn’t feel that happy either.

‘Who the hell do you think you are?’

‘I’m Chuck Bass,’ he replies, with the same smugness as though he’d said, “I’m Prince Harry”, because in the UES it’s more or less the same thing. ‘And she is…’

If Chuck were fond of symmetry, he could finish that sentence saying: “my little sister” right before punching him in the eye, but we must all be aware of our own shortcomings and anyway, he would need a stool or otherwise his fist would never reach his eye.

‘She’s underage,’ he says instead, ‘and her father is a lawyer so if I were you, I wouldn’t risk being charged for statutory rape.’

The guy blanches and leaves, muttering something along the lines “she said she was twenty, damnit”. It takes Chuck several deep breaths before his pulse goes back to normal.

‘Chuck, I was talking to that boy. He was telling me that he met Donatella Versace and… what are you doing here? Did Serena invite you too? ‘Cause I don’t think it was Georgina, I think she hates you even more than she hates me…’

Chuck flinches. It’s the first time Blair talks to him since that disastrous night at the hotel’s bar. And if he needed further proof that something’s off, then he finds it in the eerie smile plastered on the girl’s face as she talks, bouncing like that damned bunny with the batteries. He exchanges a worried glance with Serena, who looks as shocked as he feels.

‘What the hell did she drink?’

Serena shakes her head, confused.

‘I don’t know, but it didn’t seem like she was drinking that much. I think I only saw her drink that…’

‘What’re you talking about?’ Blair cuts her in. ‘Of course I didn’t drink that much, it’s a school night. I only had that Cosmo. Chuck, your shirt is hideous. The one you wore yesterday suited you better.’

Ignoring her last remark, he grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her towards him. Blair keeps smiling, her eyes wide open, her pupils enormous. Chuck’s stomach is knotted and he curses under his breath.

‘Serena, she’s not drunk. She’s _high_.’

The blonde girl’s eyes widen.

‘But, how…?’

‘I’m not high,’ Blair interjects, still smiling unnaturally. ‘I told you, I only had that Cosmo.’

Chuck glares at Serena, because Blair is already a lost cause.

‘I never believed you’d be moronic enough to accept drinks from strangers, Serena. Haven’t you learned anything in all these years of partying and boozing?’

The girl frowns and places her hands on her hips. It would be a far more intimidating move if she weren’t staggering slightly.

‘We didn’t accept drinks from anyone, Chuck. Do you really think I’m that stupid?’

Chuck is saved from answering because in that moment Blair looks up, almost as though she understood what’s going on.

‘Georgina brought the drinks to our table. Well, she brought for her and Serena, because the bitch’s always hated me, but Serena had gone off to the restroom so I had her Cosmo.’ She turns towards Serena. ‘I was going to get you another one, I swear.’

Chuck looks at Serena. In her current state, it takes her a few extra seconds to jump to the obvious conclusion.

‘Chuck, you won’t believe that Georgina would…?’

‘Look, Serena, if there’s one thing I’m sure of, is that nothing ever happens by chance when Georgina is around. If your Cosmo was spiked, then she did it.’

Serena covers her mouth with her hand, horrified. At this point, Chuck is surprised that she can still be surprised at all by Georgina Sparks’ perversity.

‘Georgina drugged me? What a bitch,’ Blair comments with a giggle. ‘I always said she was such a… Oh, that’s the boy I told you about, S! See you later.’

Chuck grabs her by the arm and makes her sit on a stool.

‘You’re not going anywhere.’

‘Hey, it’s not like you’re my boyfriend or anything,’ she shoots back, but her sulky mood vanishes almost at once. ‘Oooohhh, I love this song. Let’s dance.’

And in the blink of an eye she’s heading towards the dance floor, bouncing. Chuck lets out a growl.

‘Stay here,’ he tells Serena and goes after Blair, who is already dancing with a guy that looks vaguely like Jason Priestley. Chuck does his best to control his nausea.

‘Excuse me,’ he says and, without waiting for the guy’s reaction, he grabs Blair’s arm, dragging her away.

They find Serena sitting in the same stool Blair’s just vacated, her hands grabbing the edge of the bar, her eyes still wide open with dread.

‘I can’t believe Georgina’s done it,’ she whines. ‘I told her how important it was for me to stay out of trouble and she said she got it, hell, she even said she found it inspiring, that if a girl like me could change maybe she could hope to do so as well…’

Chuck lets out a humorless chuckle.

‘Serena, only you could fall for that one. Georgina doesn’t want to change, she’s too happy just the way she is, screwing up everybody’s lives.’

‘It’s true,’ Blair pipes up, but she seems distracted by the barman, who Chuck wants to punch on the nose.

This is going to be a very long night.

‘I’ve got to find Georgina,’ says Serena, her resolved tone contradicting her wavering balance when she stands up. ‘She’s got a few things to explain.’

‘Serena, I really don’t think…’

But before he can finish that sentence her golden head is disappearing among the crowd. Letting out a snort Chuck follows her, holding Blair close all the way. He could leave her to her own devices so she makes a fool of herself, but not even him is that cruel and he has some rather frightening suspicions regarding what sort of drug Georgina spiked her drink with. He might be still mad at Blair, but he dreads what might happen to her if he leaves her alone.

The journey across the dance floor is wearying. It’s almost impossible to move two steps forward: Serena can’t walk in a straight line and has to rely on Chuck’s shoulder every now and then so she doesn’t fall and Blair keeps bouncing and squeaking and being alarmingly touchy-feely with Serena, Chuck and anyone – and it’s really _anyone_ – that crosses their path. Chuck never thought that a night at a club with two gorgeous, slightly intoxicated girls could be such a nightmare. All the time he has to stop and hold Blair back so she doesn’t do something crazy like unbutton her blouse or start table-dancing.

‘C’mon, as though it were the first time I strip-teased in public,’ Blair says nonchalantly and unfortunately Serena is still sober enough to stare at her friend, her eyes round as saucers.

‘Blair, what’re you talking about?’

‘Serena, can’t you see she’s delusional?’ Chuck intervenes, beginning to grow desperate. Blair looks surprised.

‘But, Chuck, you were there. It was the same night that…’

‘Isn’t that Georgina?’

Of course it’s not Georgina, but Serena falls for it like always and fortunately Blair gets distracted and stops making incriminating confessions.

For now, at least.

After a while, even Serena is willing to admit that their search is futile and Chuck suggests getting back at Georgina another day, that he’ll help her gladly. Serena agrees reluctantly and they go to get their coats. Blair gives a kiss on the cheek to the girl that hands them over their coats at once despite the long line before them – a hundred dollar bill takes care of that – and tells her that if she didn’t have S already she would’ve picked her as her new best friend. Chuck would burst into laughter if he weren’t so exhausted, his headache about to turn into a migraine because of the deafening music and suddenly he remembers why he never comes to this sort of places sober. The girl in question doesn’t look particularly shocked by Blair’s behavior and Chuck guesses that after working a while in a place like this you get to the point you’ve nearly seen it all.

When they’re finally approaching the front door and Chuck’s already letting out a sigh of relief, Serena’s face turns green and she has to run towards the restroom. Chuck and Blair sit on some sort of chaise lounge while they wait, and he entertains himself by driving away the boys that approach Blair to flatter her.

‘You know what? You used to be more fun,’ she snarls after Chuck threatens to take legal action against a boy who wanted to give her his cell phone number. ‘Are you defending my virtue or what?’

‘Which virtue?’ he shoots back and she lets out a giggle.

‘You’re right, I’d forgotten.’

He hasn’t, of course. That seems to be the story of their lives, though. She moves on as though nothing had ever happened while he is doomed to remember even the most insignificant detail.

Suddenly Blair turns serious, or as serious as she can manage while being drugged out of her mind.

‘Hey, Chuck,’ she whispers and he has to lean in to listen, ‘do you really believe all those awful things you told me that night? Because I thought you did, but now you’re looking out for me and I though that, I don’t know, maybe you didn’t anymore.’

Chuck opens his mouth to reply, but when he sees her huge chocolate eyes fixed on him, a hopeful spark in them, the lie dies on his lips.

‘I never meant those things, Blair. I just told you that because I was mad at you, not because I believed it.’

‘Really?’ she says, her voice resembling a little girl’s. ‘So you don’t think I’m disgusting?’

‘Blair, you couldn’t be disgusting even if you tried.’

She gives him a dazzling smile and his heart clenches when he thinks she needs a drug to be so open and sincere.

‘Then you must like me, at least a little bit.’

‘Blair, who the hell cares whether…?’ begins Chuck, trying to avoid this conversation, until he realizes that Blair won’t remember a single word of it in the morning.

 _It’s now or never,_ he thinks and decides to throw caution to the winds.

‘Of course I like you, Blair. You’re the only girl I really like, the only one I ever cared about.’

Blair’s lips are parted, her eyes wide open and Chuck smiles sadly as he tucks a rebellious curl behind her ear, his fingers caressing her cheek.

 _You’re the one I’ve fallen in love with_ , he thinks and he doesn’t realize that he’s said it out loud until Blair lets out a gasp and a horridly familiar voice is heard behind them:

‘Aw, how _sweet_. Who would’ve seen it coming, the terrible Chuck Bass falling for Snow White Waldorf?’

 _This can’t be happening to me_ thinks Chuck desperately, his throat dry and a knot forming in his stomach, his blood frozen in his veins.

Despite his wishes it _is_ happening and when he turns around he sees an evil smirk plastered all over Georgina Sparks’ face, who is watching them lounging against a pillar, a wicked glint in her blue eyes.

‘Really, Bass, how touching. I would’ve never expected it from you and I’m pretty sure neither did Archibald. What do you think he’ll say when he finds out?’

‘I don’t think he’ll care that much,’ intervenes Blair, eerily calm. ‘He’s dating Michael Moore now.’

Both of them turn to stare at her, thunderstruck, Georgina because she doesn’t get what Blair’s talking about and Chuck because he does.

‘Nathaniel’s dating Brooklyn’s friend? Are you kidding me?’

‘Nope,’ Blair says, almost indifferent. ‘I saw them together after the SAT’s.’

It takes Chuck a moment to absorb this new piece of information. He might not be on speaking terms with Nathaniel, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care and to say Chuck doesn’t like Vanessa and her stupid camera is like saying he’s not a good student. What shocks him the most is how calm Blair seems about the whole thing.

‘Well, it could have been worse,’ she says nonchalantly. ‘It could’ve been Penelope or Little J.’ She scrunches up her nose, disgusted. ‘At least Vanessa is not that bad. Do you remember when she took your ten thousand dollars for that tape and then…?’

Fortunately for them both Blair can’t give Georgina any more ammunition because a shrill voice makes them all jump.

‘Georgina! How could you do that to me?’

Serena’s face looks less green and more crimson now that rage ignites in her eyes. Georgina shrugs.

‘What do you want me to say? The new S bores me to death and that’s not you. Do you really expect me to believe that you’re happy with your bohemian boyfriend, your new life as a sober woman and that prude of Waldorf as your best friend?’

‘Hey!’ Blair exclaims, annoyed. ‘I’m not a prude, actually, I have…’

Chuck covers her mouth with his hand before she can keep giving away dangerous information. Serena’s eyes are filled with unshed tears.

‘I am happy, Georgina. I’m much happier than I ever was when I went out to get drunk with you every night, much happier than I was when I woke up every morning with a hangover, not even knowing where I was. Why do you have to ruin everything?’

An unfathomable look darkens Georgina’s face, unfathomable to everyone but Chuck, who knows that no matter how diabolical, manipulative and destructive a person might be, it doesn’t mean they don’t have a broken heart.

But Georgina would rather die than let anyone see it, because it’s easier to lash out at those we care about than show how much they can hurt us and that is something Chuck also understands.

‘S, don’t make me laugh. You new life is pathetic and how long do you think you’ll be able to keep it up? You know as well as I do that all this idiocy of being a ‘good girl’ doesn’t suit you. Before you know it, you’ll be downing vodka like in the old good days, and no one will ever believe that you’re content with just one guy – ’

‘Shut up, Georgina. Why don’t you just go away and let me be?’ Serena snaps but there’s a note of insecurity in her voice, because there are certain things you can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try and she knows it.

Georgina smiles, a creepy smirk that doesn’t bode well for any of them.

‘Okay, I’ll leave. I can tell when I’m not appreciated.’

 _Really?_ thinks Chuck, surprised, but he keeps his mouth shut. Georgina raises her hands in surrender.

‘I won’t stay if you don’t want me around, S. Tomorrow I’ll leave for Switzerland so you don’t have to see me ever again, I promise I won’t bother you anymore.’

Serena looks both relieved and guilty, but Chuck doesn’t buy any of it. His suspicions are confirmed when right before taking her leave Georgina gives him a twisted smirk.

‘See you, Bass. You know, it was rather… interesting to see you again. Well, at least _I_ won’t forget all you’ve said tonight, right? Actually, I daresay it has been etched on my brain.’

Her laughter rings in his ears over the loud music, and she throws them a kiss before disappearing in the crowd. Serena gives him a confused glance and only then Chuck realizes that his hand is still over Blair’s mouth.

‘Bitch,’ is the first thing Blair says when he lets go. ‘I’ve never liked her.’

Once they’re in the limo Blair amuses herself by singing an old Spice Girls’ song at the top of her lungs and Chuck remembers why she refuses to sing in public. Serena isn’t paying any attention to her: she’s staring out the opposite window, and Chuck pretends he doesn’t see the tears rolling down her cheeks because he’s not in the mood to comfort her. After a while Blair stops yelling, although she keeps bouncing on her seat and Serena apparently falls asleep, because she doesn’t even stir when a cell starts to ring.

It’s already an ingrained reflex for him so Chuck automatically picks up, but he regrets it at once when he hears Humphrey’s not-so-happy voice at the other end.

‘Chuck? Why do you have Serena’s cell?’

‘She left it here,’ he lies at once. ‘And before you ask no, Humphrey, I don’t know where she is.’

‘Why would she go to your suite…? Well, it doesn’t matter. She was supposed to be with Blair but she doesn’t pick up her phone either and I don’t know why I’m telling you this, it’s not like you care.’

‘You’re right, I don’t,’ Chuck agrees, about to hang up when Blair asks:

‘Is that Cabbage Patch?’

_‘Is that Blair?’_

_Great_. Just great.

‘No, it’s not Waldorf. I don’t know if your girlfriend told you, but we’re no longer on speaking terms. Now, if you don’t mind –’

Before he can finish that sentence, though, Blair takes the phone out of his hand. Chuck tries to snatch it back before a disaster takes place, but then Blair speaks with a voice that doesn’t sound at all like her own, a convincing French accent making her words almost impossible to understand.

‘Look, sweetie, Mr. Bass and I are kinda busy right now, so I’d appreciate it if you called back later. _Au revoir_.’

Chuck gapes at her.

‘Since when can you do voices?’

She gives him a smug smirk.

‘I’ve got many hidden talents, Bass.’

‘I bet you do, Waldorf.’

It’s almost, almost like in the old days. But back then Blair Waldorf’s closeness neither made his pulse race nor sent shivers down his spine, and she’s looking at him with bright eyes and parted ruby lips.

Chuck knows this is unforgivable. He knows he has no excuse, he knows he’ll regret it because despite what most people might think, he still has a little bit of a conscience in him, as well as a scrape of survival instinct. Even so, even so, temptation is too strong, instinct too intense and before letting himself think about it he’s leaning to kiss her. Not only she doesn’t move away – of course she doesn’t – but she also kisses him back with the same intensity, and in an instant she’s on his lap, her thin fingers entangled in his hair, her slender legs wrapped around his waist. There’s something desperate and frenetic in the way Chuck kisses her until there’s no air left in his lungs, trying to drink her breath, her scent; his hand are exploring the skin underneath her blouse, skin that burns when he touches it, and he can’t stop even though he knows it’s wrong, that she won’t even remember it tomorrow, that Serena is sleeping in the opposite side of the limo and that this is insane, this can only end with sharp daggers sinking into his chest when she tosses him away once more.

But his mind is in a haze when she arches her back, pressing her chest against his, her hips creating an intoxicating friction between them, a familiar and alluring purr escaping from her lips when he covers her throat with kisses. He wants her, with a passion and an intensity he’s never felt before and it’s never been farther from the truth what he’s told her that night at the bar than it is in this very moment, because he needs her, he needs her more than breathing because he could give up oxygen if he could just keep kissing her until they are both out of breath and brain cells.

When Blair starts to fumble with his belt, though, something snaps inside his head and he regains enough sense to push Blair away. She moans quietly when their lips grow apart and Chuck swallows. This is the worst of all circles in hell: seeing right in front of him what he’s desired for so long, knowing she’s offering herself willingly – although deep down he knows that’s not true – knowing there will be no consequences for his actions. And despite all that, although Chuck Bass is neither a gentleman nor a nice person, it doesn’t mean he’s a monster.

He can see the reproachful look in Blair’s brown eyes when he makes her sit back on the leather seat but he can’t give in to temptation, not like this, not when he knows he won’t be able to stop.

‘Not like this, Blair,’ he whispers, his voice desperate, broken. ‘I can’t have you like this.’

‘But I want to –’

‘No, Blair, you don’t and you won’t even remember this tomorrow but I will and I can’t. Not like this.’

Before she can stop him he moves away from her and sits at the opposite end of the limo, in front of Serena, who is sleeping so soundly Chuck would be scared if it wasn’t for her soft snoring.

Blair purses her lips and looks in the opposite direction, her arms folded over her chest and Chuck tries not to stare at her wrinkled blouse, at her reddened cheeks or her shimmering skin because otherwise temptation would be far too hard to resist.

Blood is pumping very fast in his veins and he’s starting to feel asphyxia, so he opens the window, hoping the chilly night air will cool down his feverish mind and body. When the frigid air fills the limo Serena, who wouldn’t have woken up not even for a tsunami, opens her eyes, unfocused and with a confused look in them.

Blair comes back to life suddenly and shakes her up to tell her, giggling, about Humphrey’s call and Serena hasn’t even listened to a single word when her friend is already babbling about some Cedric guy who needs new clothes ASAP (Chuck decides that at times, ignorance is indeed bliss.) He sees by the corner of his eye that Serena is looking at him, perhaps because she wants him to tell her about Humphrey’s call, but Chuck doesn’t dare to look at her. Serena might not be completely sober, but he feels like all his feelings and thoughts are written all over his forehead and he doesn’t want a new black eye for abusing another helpless girl. He had enough with the one her boyfriend gave him back then, thank you very much.

Dorota eyes him as though she were convinced that it was Chuck who poisoned her beloved Miss Blair, and she doesn’t seem convinced by Serena’s explanation. Chuck suspects he won’t be welcomed at _Chez_ Waldorf anymore, but it’s not like that’s any news at all.

Serena keeps apologizing, but Blair doesn’t see the problem yet and Chuck is too tired to listen to her.

‘Serena, save your apology for tomorrow, because once Blair is conscious again she’ll tear up your scalp. As for me… I’ll think of something.’

She bites her lip as a scowling Dorota checks up on Blair. Chuck wants to get out of there before the housekeeper turns into Nikita and shoots him, but Serena stops him.

‘Chuck, do you really think that… that Georgina was honest? Will she leave me alone, just like that?’

He lets out a sigh and chooses to be sincere.

‘No, Serena, I don’t. Georgina won’t be happy until she ruins everyone’s lives and sadly for you, you’ll be no exception.’

He doesn’t see surprise in her eyes, but after all Serena knows Georgina as well as he does.

‘What am I going to do?’

She’s almost begging now and normally Chuck wouldn’t care, but Georgina Sparks drives him crazy and tonight she’s crossed the line.

‘Look, the best you can do now is go to bed and recover a few brain cells. Tomorrow… we’ll see, okay? Oh, and you have to make up some convincing lie for your boyfriend, if you insist on keeping him in the dark.’

She nods, her expression desolate, and he turns to leave, not wanting to say goodbye to Blair.

‘Chuck… thank you.’

He shrugs.

‘You’ll pay me back, sis.’

Chuck’s predictions turn out to be sadly accurate and when Georgina drops a bomb against Serena on Gossip Girl’s blog, he gets a text message.

**_You’re next._ **

Chuck is not really surprised. Georgina Sparks is diabolical and she won’t stop until she turns their lives into a living hell.

He sends her another text message.

**_If I go down, you’ll go down with me._ **

Because two can play this game and anyway, Chuck Bass has lost his chance to get into Heaven a long time ago.

 

 

  1. **Lies**



 

In a world where the reflection in the mirror could be deceitful and the sparkling varnish of a glamorous life tries to conceal what is dark and twisted, it’s hard to distinguish between truth and lies. No one is forced to bear the burden of the face or the physical features they were born with, not when you can pay the best plastic surgeons and you have an entire army of stylists surrounding you 24 hours a day, taking care that not a single hair gets out of place, that your make up doesn’t smear and reveal a flaw that might show your humanity. And if the worst came to happen, Photoshop can gloss over any nightmare and turn it into a product for sale.

The boundaries between reality and fiction become blurry when any story can be rewritten if only one knows whose phone to call, when one can make the dullest event sound brilliant and glamorous, when the most obscure secrets are hidden beneath Persian carpets and gold-threaded tapestries. Even notions as basic and absolute as “friendship” and “love” are rendered meaningless when children learn to value their classmates by their parents’ bank account and prenups are signed even before the engagement ring is chosen.

Lies are the mother tongue in their world and Eric Van der Woodsen knows it well.

At a young age he learnt that deceit and simulation could be found not only on a stage, but in his own living room as well. As children, Eric and Serena soon learnt that it was better to pretend that their father had never existed rather than ask awkward questions on his whereabouts. As long as his checks keep arriving with the precision of a Swiss watch, it’s pointless to wonder why he has never phoned them once ever since he left their home, long before Eric could even form a single clear memory of him. The Van der Woodsen siblings also learn to wear plastic smiles when their mother starts to make plans for yet another wedding, pretending that they truly believe this time will be forever and ever. As though they didn’t know all too well that as soon as the honeymoon is over and the suitcases belonging to the man who was supposed to become their surrogate father appear on the doorstep, they will only have left a name and a bunch of pictures that’ll end up in the trash can.

At a home where his mother keeps pretending she has an ideal family when her divorce papers are signed before the wedding dress can collect dust in her closet, where Serena’s “indiscretions” are covered up with make up and secret meetings with the principal so she doesn’t get suspended, where the bandages on Eric’s wrists are concealed with an imaginary trip to Miami, it’s not strange that lies become familiar.

Even though they don’t like it, even though they make an effort to find something solid to hold onto, the Van der Woodsens fall into their own traps over and over again. Eric isn’t surprised when Serena insists that she has found true love and a way to authenticity in Dan Humphrey and at the same time tries to keep from him as much of her own past as she can. He’s not surprised either when their mother swears she will not fall again into this never-ending cycle and then starts to plan her wedding to a man with only one facial expression and a large bank account, a man who apparently still believes in Lily Van der Woodsen’s fairytales.

He shouldn’t be surprised either when he finds himself caught up in the same web of lies and pretence. When he assures Dr. Miller that everything is going great at home, when in front of his classmates he pretends that his antidepressants are just regular vitamins, when he acts as though he didn’t see that Serena is in trouble again or when he gives his mother a smile and congratulates her on her upcoming wedding – one way or another, he is part of the same vicious circle. Whether he likes it or not, it’s in his genes, in the very air he has breathed during his entire life.

Perhaps that’s why when he catches a glimpse of something real, he tries to hold onto it, to build something tangible to oppose to all the gloss and varnish in his world.

Like his new camaraderie with Chuck, for instance.

Against popular belief, Eric is not naïve. He is perfectly aware that Chuck chooses to spend so much time with him as of late partly because he’s been rather lonely ever since Nate stopped talking to him and partly because to him the notion of a family is a novelty and the role of a big brother is one he never thought he would be able to play. Eric is aware of this, but he also realizes that doesn’t mean that Chuck’s interest in forming a friendship with him is less sincere.

He is probably the most manipulative, twisted and unscrupulous person in the entire Upper East Side (as long as Georgina Sparks and Grandma Cece are out of town, of course) but he is also the most honest guy Eric has ever dealt with. Chuck doesn’t try to conceal his true nature, he doesn’t attempt to cover up with sparkling gloss and a forced smile the ugliness around him. Eric doesn’t have to look like he is happy 24/7 when he is with Chuck, he doesn’t have to pretend that he cares about everyone’s feelings, he doesn’t have to hide that he can also be selfish at times. It’s a relief to get away from the image of a fragile but eternally understanding boy his mother and sister have built for him, a relief to be able to laugh at jokes in poor taste and to make fun of the scars on his wrists, without worrying that it might be read as another sign of depression.

Chuck doesn’t treat him as though he were made of glass, he doesn’t look at him as though he were a freak. Perhaps there are times when he is a tad patronizing, perhaps he takes his self-imposed role of a big brother a little too seriously, but Eric must admit that is much more fun to have an older brother than a sister, even though he will never tell Serena that.

Of course that, like everything else in this world, Chuck’s friendship comes with a price.

‘It’s a façade, you can tell from miles away. Didn’t you notice how she looks at him, as though she were looking through him? And he practically asks for her permission to hold her hand… I bet my Piaget watch that they’re not getting laid.’

Eric frowns. They’re comfortably sitting in the Bass’ limo, drinking a Starbucks cappuccino each (Chuck’s with a good dose of whiskey, naturally) and looking through the tinted windows how Blair Waldorf kisses Carter Baizen one more time. There’s such amount of sugar in the smiles they exchange that Eric is convinced he will die of diabetes if he keeps watching them long enough.

‘I thought you no longer had that watch… Didn’t Carter steal it?’

Chuck dismisses this with a wave of his hand.

‘It’s a manner of speech. But look, just _look_ at them. It’s the fakest thing I’ve ever seen since Hazel got her nose job.’

‘Which ended up crooked’, adds Eric, letting out a less-than-kind chuckle. Chuck, though, doesn’t smile. His brow is so furrowed that Eric is almost convinced that it will stay that way forever and his eyes never leave the couple across the street.

The knuckles in the hand that’s holding the paper cup have turned white and Eric hopes he doesn’t end up tearing apart the cup and pouring the coffee on him… Although with Chuck’s current state of mind it is possible that he wouldn’t even feel the steaming coffee on his pants.

‘Chuck, why don’t you let it go? If we stay here for long Blair will notice and she’ll probably get a restraining order against you.’

‘She won’t,’ he replies in his most characteristic self-assured tone. ‘Don’t you realize that this is precisely what she’s aiming to?’

‘You mean she wants you to follow her around like a psycho stalker?’

‘ _No_ … Well, I don’t know.’ He hesitates and for the first time he tears his gaze away from the happy couple and fixes it upon Eric, who is surprised by the gleam of hope in his brown eyes. ‘Do you think that she could be doing all this just to piss me off? That she’s doing this because of me?’

Eric knows he’s threading on treacherous waters, because although Chuck Bass might not be someone remotely likely to open up about his feelings, one should be blind and deaf not to notice certain things.

What makes him wonder – again – about Nate Archibald’s IQ, but that’s another story.

‘Does it look like I’ve got the slightest clue of what goes inside Blair Waldorf’s head?’

Chuck has to admit that Eric’s got a point, probably because there are times when not even him can figure out what’s hiding underneath the girl’s velvet ribbons and sharp smiles.

After a while, Chuck gulps what’s left of his cappuccino, which is probably freezing cold by now, and sinks into the leather seat.

‘You’re right. It’s pointless to keep watching them. I’m not gonna figure out anything like this.’

Eric lets out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief… until Chuck turns to look at him with a rather sinister smirk on his face.

‘But you could do it for me.’

The boy straightens in his seat and almost drops his own coffee.

‘Chuck, whatever it is that you’re thinking, I don’t reckon…’

‘Don’t worry, it’s neither illegal nor hazardous to your physical integrity,’ he replies calmly. ‘I just want you to follow them and see what they do when no one’s watching.’

Eric arches an eyebrow. He is starting to reconsider the so-called advantages of having a brand new big brother.

‘And you say it’s not hazardous to my physical integrity? What do you think Blair will do to me when she realizes that I’m following her?’

Chuck rolls his eyes.

‘Blair won’t risk getting a nail broken to punch you. Besides, you’re her best friend’s little brother… and she likes you.’

Eric stares at him, his eyes wide open.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that…’

Before he can utter another word, though, Chuck opens the door on Eric’s side of the limo and starts nudging him towards it.

‘C’mon, Eric, it’s just a little favor. After all, what are brothers for?’

Dr. Miller likes to tell him that he should be more firm about his decisions. That he cannot keep allowing others to make his choices for him just because he doesn’t like confrontations, that sometimes people have to stand up to their beloved ones in order to obtain their independency. She says it won’t be the end of the world if he ever tells someone “no”.

While he watches the limo disappear around the corner, Eric wonders why he keeps making his mother waste five hundred dollars per session a week just to listen to some rather obvious advice that he will never take anyway.

 

-

 

Considering it is a spring afternoon, the weather is freaking cold and Eric is chilled to the bone. He had to put his scarf in his schoolbag because it was way too notorious, and he pulls up the collar of his jacket in a futile attempt to keep the frosty wind at bay, imitating Chuck’s style without realizing it. He could just send Chuck to hell and go home, where central heating and a comfortable sofa are waiting for him… but instead he keeps walking several meters behind Blair Waldorf and Carter Baizen, hiding his face each time it seems one of them might look over their shoulder. Much to his own annoyance, Eric has to admit that the newest UES’ Sweethearts are piquing his curiosity.

They are walking hand in hand, their steps in synch, and at first they look like any other teenaged couple he’s ever seen… but there are tiny details that seem to be off. For instance, the distance between them. Even though they’re holding hands, they walk as far away from each other as they possibly can. On the other hand, they barely acknowledge each other. Blair seems more interested in either window shopping or in enthusiastically greeting any acquaintances they run into, whereas her brand new boyfriend is clearly not the focus of her attention. Not like Carter seems to mind it at all, considering he doesn’t even attempt to hide it when he checks out other girls.

This last detail puzzles Eric when he realizes that Blair not only refrains from chastising her boyfriend for his behavior, but doesn’t even seem to mind at all. Knowing Blair as he does, and being aware of the asphyxiating-possessive-paranoid nature of her relationship with Nate, it just doesn’t make sense. Either she’s very certain of Carter’s feelings for her… or she doesn’t care about them at all.

They reach Blair’s building and Eric ducks, hiding his face while pretending to be tying his shoelaces. He watches them get into the building by the corner of his eye and wonders what he should do next. Technically, he’s already done what Chuck asked of him and even though he hasn’t figured out what’s going on, that’s not really his problem. His mission here is already over.

And yet… Eric knows himself better than Dr. Miller thinks and he is perfectly aware that curiosity might be one of his worst flaws. Serena and his mother would be horrified if they ever learnt the number of things Eric manages to find out just by stopping to listen through the door at an opportune moment. Now that he thinks of it, perhaps it isn’t so outrageous that there was a time when everybody seemed to believe he was Gossip Girl.

Eric stands up and glances at his watch. He knows this building’s security guard better than he knows the guy at the Palace Hotel and he is certain that Dorota won’t be a problem. He hesitates, glancing at his watch again. Fifteen minutes should be more than enough.

He lounges against a wall across the street and for once he wishes he smoked, because it would be an inconspicuous way to occupy himself. _Too bad_ , he mutters to himself, and then he thinks of pulling out his cell. It’s as good as an excuse as any other and for lack of something better to do, he checks Gossip Girl’s blog. He grimaces when he scrolls down the never-ending list of ridiculous rumors on both Blair and Jenny that seem to fill the blog. When he sees an entry comparing the two girls’ new boyfriends something twists in his stomach, something that could be called guilt and that burns worse than ever when he sees Jenny’s radiant smile. 

 _She doesn’t deserve something like this and you know it_ , says his conscience’s rather irritating voice and for once he wishes he were like Chuck without any sort of conscience whatsoever, even though deep down he knows that’s not necessarily true.

He fiddles with the cell, wondering what to do. Seeing Jenny’s happiness these last few days has been a kick in the gut and each time he sees her grinning like a Cheshire cat Eric has to suppress the urge to scream.

_And yet, you didn’t dare to say anything to her, did you?_

He really hates his conscience.

Eric Van der Woodsen isn’t a particularly brave person. He has his moments, like everybody else, but the truth is that he usually hesitates too much before making his move, thinking over and over again about each possible course of action and more often than not he gets cold-feet before doing anything. The few times he did something drastic in his life – telling Blair and Jenny the truth about his fake trip to Miami, escaping from Ostroff Center, even grabbing the razor from the toilette’s shelf and slicing his wrists with it – was always a spur of the moment thing, acting before he had time to stop himself, not allowing himself a second thought… because he knew that if he did, he would never dare.

His fingers search in his cell’s directory the letter ‘J’, and he dials the number without even stopping to sort out what he’ll say. Jenny deserves to know the truth and he’s sick of keeping his mouth shut, sick of chickening out each time he tries to talk to her. He will just blurt it out and deal with the consequences later.

His call goes straight to voice mail. He shouldn’t be surprised, considering his inherent bad luck and that he’s barely been able to talk to Jenny this last couple of weeks. If both Dan and Mr. Humphrey hadn’t assured him that lately they weren’t seeing Jenny anymore than he did, Eric could have thought she was avoiding him.

If she knew the truth, you can be damn well sure she would be avoiding you.

He tries to push away that thought and his gaze fixes once more upon the building across the street. Neither Carter nor Blair have come out yet and Eric wonders whether he should wait a little more. Will he really dare to put into action what he’s just thought? Or will he get cold feet as usual? He glances at his watch again, perhaps to gather some courage, and he feels his cell vibrate in his pocket. He pulls it out at once and almost drops it in his hurry to open it, but once he sees whose message it is he closes it, furious. _What a nerve…_

Maybe it’s because of the sudden rage that fills him, maybe because he’s so tired of spending his entire life waiting for something to happen, or perhaps it’s because he’s freezing to death, either way he decides to throw caution to the winds and crosses the street.

The security guard recognizes him at once and lets him in. As for Dorota, a lucky twist of fate favors him so she doesn’t see him enter the penthouse. Eric manages to go all the way upstairs without being seen and when he reaches Blair’s bedroom he stops on his tracks, until he sees that the door is ajar and his confidence returns to him. Blair might be many things but save for the occasional night at Victrola, exhibitionism is not one of her traits, so whatever she and Carter are doing in there in the very least they’ll have their clothes on.

He walks in without knocking and stops dead on his tracks, stunned. Carter and Blair are in opposite sides of the room, he is watching TV while she sits in front of her computer typing really fast. They don’t look at each other or speak at any rate, as though they didn’t even know the other one was there at all.

‘Er… Blair?’

Both of them turn to look at him, Blair’s eyes widening in surprise, Carter looking indifferent.

‘Eric! What a… surprise. How are you?’

‘Er… fine, thanks. And you?’

‘Perfectly fine.’

A definitively awkward silence settles between them. Blair turns her chair so her back is at the computer and she can focus her attention on Eric, her hands crossed on her lap. There’s an expectant look in her eyes and he is startled when he realizes that she’s surely expecting an explanation regarding his presence in her room.

‘Um… Can I have a word with you?’

‘Sure’, replies Blair, clearly intrigued. She looks at Carter for the very first time and her voice is overdosed with saccharine when she says: ‘Honey, would you mind…?’

‘Of course not,’ he answers automatically. ‘I gotta see my father anyway, so…’

‘Oh, sure, don’t make him wait. See you tomorrow?’

‘Sure, sure,’ he says as he gathers his stuff. ‘Call you later.’

Eric makes a mental note when he sees that Carter doesn’t kiss Blair goodbye and she doesn’t seem to care. He doesn’t know how Chuck will interpret it, but he’ll certainly love to hear about it. He snaps back into reality when he sees that Blair is growing impatient and, in a fit of panic, Eric blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind.

‘I’m worried over Serena.’

This definitely gets Blair’s full attention, and he feels an inconvenient pang of guilt when he sees the concern on her face.

‘What happened? Is she in trouble again?’

‘I… I’m not sure,’ Eric admits, sitting on the edge of her bed. ‘It’s just that a couple of weeks ago she began to act all weird, remember? She even lost the SATs and she’d been studying for entire weeks…’

Blair looks pensive.

‘Yes, that was quite odd. I mean, if we were talking about Serena b.C,’ Eric recognized the term “b.C” as “before Connecticut”, where his sister ran away to when she decided to lock herself up in a boarding school, ‘I wouldn’t have been so surprised. I’d thought she had gone for some drinks the night before and the hangover was too strong for her to sit for the exam, but…’

‘Serena doesn’t do that kind of stuff anymore,’ Eric finishes and she nods.

‘Maybe she got in a fight with Cabbage Patch… No, he didn’t know what was up with her either.’ Blair bites her lip and fixes the ribbon on her head, which was perfectly in place before she touched it. ‘To be honest, I’ve no idea. But she’s back to normal now, isn’t she?’

‘Well… yeah,’ Eric admits reluctantly. Blair gives him a smile.

‘Then whatever this was about has already vanished.’ She leans forward to place a hand on his knee and her tone turns almost motherly. ‘I promise I’ll keep an eye on her, but I don’t think there’s anything you should worry about, okay?’

‘Thanks, Blair,’ he says, feeling like crap. Blair straightens in her seat and after a while, she frowns.

‘That was it, Eric? Or is there something else you wanted to tell me?’

Too late he realizes that he’s remained sitting still on her bed instead of making his exit in time. The girl’s brown eyes dig into his as though they were Zonds trying to pass through his skull to see what’s underneath.  Eric tries his best not to swallow and he lets escape the first thing that comes to his lips:

‘Well, it’s … It’s Jenny.’

He knows it’s a colossal mistake even before Blair stiffens and her expression turns as closed off as a security vault’s door. The war over the Met steps and the Constance Billards’ throne has turned ruthless and also bizarre since Gossip Girl’s blog became the latest battlefield. Serena has already warned him that it’s pointless trying to make Blair see reason, as the girl blames – perhaps not without good reason – Jenny for her fall from grace. Eric knows this, as he also knows that meddling will do him no good, that there’s a good reason he avoids confrontations when he can… and yet, maybe because it hasn’t left his thoughts during the entire week, perhaps because his guilt makes him feel like he owes her something, Eric raises his chin and says:

‘I think you’re making a mistake, Blair. Jenny is not… Jenny wasn’t born to deal with the UES’ lifestyle.’

Blair raises her eyebrows and her lips curve into a slightly sinister smirk, but Eric’s been living long enough under the same roof as Chuck Bass and he’s not easily intimidated.

‘No one doubts that, Eric. That’s why I want to send her back to where she belongs: the bottom of the food chain, right next to Wal-Mart’s sales.’

‘That’s not what I meant, Blair,’ he replies, standing on his feet to start walking around the room, perhaps because he feels nervous, perhaps because he is annoyed or maybe just fed up. ‘I mean that she isn’t like the rest of the girls at Constance Billards, like the boys at St. Jude’s or even our parents. She wasn’t raised like them, learning to lie before being able to speak properly, she wasn’t taught to scheme when she was at kindergarten or to backstab her classmates at elementary school.’

He passes a hand through his hair, messing it more than usual and pulls at the cuffs of his shirt, an unconscious gesture he acquired during his stay at the Ostroff Center even though there are no longer any bandages to hide.

‘She’s different, Blair. Maybe Jenny started this, maybe not, I don’t know, but I’m sure she has no idea what she’s getting herself into. She wasn’t born for this, she… She is not like you or me.’

Eric, tired of walking around aimlessly, sinks into the edge of the bed again. He’s out of breath and there’s a whirlwind running through his head after this bout of unexpected honesty, after finally admitting out loud that even though it bothers him, he’s just like Blair and everyone else.

When she finally deigns to speak, Blair’s voice could easily cut through steel and pulverize it.

‘Do you really believe that, Eric? Do you really think that Jenny is not as capable of cheating and betraying as any of us? Let me tell you something, and for the record I’m only bothering to do this just out of concern for your well-being.’

At these words Eric looks up, incredulous, but Blair is absolutely serious, her body stiff, her lips pressed into a tight line, her face somber.

‘Jenny is willing to do anything just to climb up the social ladder, Eric. She doesn’t care whether she has to lie or walk over someone else if she can get what she wants. I know her type well, and there’s nothing they won’t do in order to win, don’t let her deceive you with her goody-goody smile.’

‘And yet,’ Eric replies, his voice frigorific, ‘I can’t picture Jenny making up a fantasy relationship just to score a few popularity points at school.’

His are words spoken at random, a shot in the dark that has no more basis  than the paranoid suspicions provoked by Chuck’s jealously… words that manage to hit the target all the same because Blair flinches. A millisecond later she’s composed herself, but they both know it’s already too late. They stare at each other for a moment, until dawning comprehension shines in the girl’s brown eyes.

‘Chuck sent you, didn’t he?’

He could lie. He could make up another excuse, he could just deny it or turn around and leave without providing the satisfaction of an answer. But Eric is sick, though, sick of the tangled web his life has been reduced to, a web in which each thread is a different lie that twists and entangles with all the others.

‘Why do you ask me what you already know? Is it not because of Chuck that you’re putting up this charade?’

It’s the first time Blair doesn’t hold his gaze, instead, she turns her chair and fixes her eyes upon the computer screen.

‘Chuck Bass is not my main concern.’ She starts to type something when Eric snorts. Her fingers stop moving and she deigns to glance over her shoulder, looking incredulous like every time anyone dares to challenge her. ‘You don’t believe me?’

Eric shrugs and stands up.

‘To be honest, it’s rather hard to do so but, you know what? I don’t care. You can keep tearing each other apart as much as you like. See you, Blair.’

He’s almost reached the elevator’s doors when Blair, now standing on the stairs, an inscrutable expression on her face, stops him.

‘It wasn’t me who started this, Eric.’

She doesn’t specify whether she’s talking about either Jenny or Chuck but it doesn’t really matter.

‘I know that, Blair but, don’t you think it’s better to put an end to it before…?’

He doesn’t end the sentence because he can find his answer in Blair’s hardened eyes. Tired, he waves his hand goodbye and steps into the elevator. For a fleeting instant before the elevator’s doors shut close, Eric could swear that he sees the girl’s cool façade waver… or perhaps it’s merely his imagination.

 

-

 

Apparently Chuck is too excited over his father’s upcoming bachelor party in Monte Carlo and he doesn’t seem to pay much attention when Eric tells him a shortened version of his conversation with Blair. He goes from one place to another bossing his valet around, telling him the precise way he wants his designers suits placed inside the suitcase, looking for his missing sunglasses or regretting aloud that Lily didn’t grant Eric permission to go with them. Eric himself doesn’t feel that much regret. He’ll miss Chuck a little, sure, but he won’t miss Bart so much and anyway, he suspects that the kind of fun that his stepbrother hopes to find in Monaco is really not his thing.

Only when the valet has left the room to pick up one more suit from the dryers, Chuck distractedly begins to organize his passport and documents and asks in an almost nonchalant manner:

‘So, she didn’t deny that it was all a charade, did she? And you said they weren’t even making out when you walked into her bedroom?’

Eric sighs and confirms it once more. Chuck lets out a malicious chuckle, without looking up yet.

‘Always knew that Carter Baizen was a moron. If I were with Blair Waldorf in her bedroom, you can bet we wouldn’t be watching TV…’

When he realizes what a dangerous turn this conversation is taking, Chuck abruptly falls silent. He risks one glance at Eric by the corner of his eye, who keeps his face neutral, and looking somewhat relieved Chuck starts talking about all the women he expects to bed in Monaco. Eric nods at appropriate intervals, perfectly aware that even when he’s miles away Chuck will find the time to check Gossip Girl’s blog obsessively, looking for any sign of Blair, and that none of the women he likes to brag about will have brown curls or ruby lips.

 

-

 

Chuck leaves even though his presence is still felt in the daily phone calls Serena and Eric get. They can’t help but burst into laughter when they see that they’ve gotten yet another call from him, and their laughter tries to conceal all the things none of them wants to say aloud. The Van der Woodsen siblings know that the fantasy of a Norman Rockwell family that Chuck’s has built in his mind – assuming, of course, that good old Norman ever painted families that lived in penthouses and had a fondness for botox and whiskey – is meant to crash and burn because they have already walked down this road before and they know how the story ends once divorce papers are signed.  Perhaps because for once they see Chuck excited over something that’s neither illegal nor immoral they don’t have the heart to crush his childish fantasy of family meals a la Ingalls, perhaps because they also need to believe that this time they’re building a relationship over something more solid than their mother’s sentimental swings. In any case, even Serena obliges when Chuck decides to act as the older brother (even though she was born two months before him) and Eric realizes that Chuck’s concern over her has something to do with his sister’s weird behavior a few weeks ago. It should be odd the relief he feels at knowing that, whatever it is that happened to Serena, their stepbrother is aware of it and is willing to lend her a hand. It should be odd, but it’s not, because Eric has learnt that despite his many flaws, there are certain things one can implicitly trust Chuck Bass with.

Not only for Serena does Chuck find time to worry while he’s supposed to be having fun in Monaco. Strangely enough – or perhaps not, because Eric should have realized that he can’t fool him as easily as everybody else – Chuck doesn’t ask him about Blair; instead, he wants to know how Eric himself is doing and there’s real concern in his voice.

‘Are you sure you’re alright? Because you sound quite weird and you didn’t look very well those last few days I was in New York.’

Eric is surprised that with his paranoid obsession with Blair and Baizen Chuck managed to notice that the world around him kept turning, but maybe he should start to give him a little more credit. No matter how self-absorbed he might be, Chuck has always been sharper than Serena and perhaps Eric should consider it the next time he attempts to hide something from him.

‘I… I didn’t think you’d noticed. You didn’t say anything.’

Eric could swear that he can almost see Chuck shrug at the other end of the line and with an ocean among them.

‘I figures that if you wanted to talk about it, you would.’

And that’s why the relationship between Eric and Chuck is so incredibly simple when they live in a fucked-up world.

‘Is it about the boy from Ostroff? Because, well, that’s not exactly my area of expertise…’

Eric can feel how his cheeks start to incinerate and is deeply grateful that Chuck can’t see him, although to be honest his stepbrother sounds as uncomfortable as he feels.

‘Look, if you want to get your revenge, I can think of something… Although I’d rather you waited for me to come back before taking any actions. Scheming is just not your thing. No offense.’

‘None taken, don’t worry’ Eric replies, his lips curving into a smile that vanishes at once when a familiar limo stops in front of the school’s entrance steps. The door opens to reveal Jenny Humphrey, looking more radiant than ever. ‘Don’t start with the scheming just yet, I think… I think I can handle this on my own.’

‘Are you sure?’ Chuck asks, and it’s not that hard for Eric to imagine him with a glass of scotch in one hand, a girl on his lap and his right eyebrow arching.

‘Sure,’ says Eric through gritted teeth as he watches, along with the entire student body, how on the entrance steps Jenny and Asher share a kiss as Hollywood-esque as the one Blair and Carter are sharing against a pillar.

He says goodbye to Chuck and closes off his cell more forcefully than necessary, bile burning in his throat when Jenny kisses Asher goodbye one last time and runs towards her friends, who surround her at once as though she were their queen bee. Asher doesn’t get into the limo immediately, a colossal mistake because when he looks up his gaze meets Eric’s. His eyes only widen slightly in surprise, and the asshole has the nerve to wave in his direction.

Eric thinks of himself as a tolerant kind of person. He’s probably not as tolerant as his mother and Serena seem to believe when they say that he’s incapable of getting angry or holding a grudge, but tolerant nonetheless, never prone to anger or rage. When he turns around and walks in long strides towards Jenny, though, it’s a miracle that none of his veins explodes and stains the floor with the red that invades his thoughts.

He doesn’t even ponder on what he’ll tell Jenny, how he’ll manage to tell her the truth without hurting her. He’s sick, sick of mirrors and screens, of white lies that cut deeper than razors and sick of the glossy make-up used to cover up the putrefaction underneath. The last thing he ever wanted was to cause Jenny any harm, but he has to pull off the veil that covers her eyes before it’s too late, before she discovers on her own the deceiving structure on which relationships in the UES are built.

Eric doesn’t want to admit that Blair Waldorf is right, but when a giggle and a ridiculous theory escape Jenny’s lips, when she turns her back to him after throwing a ‘call me back later, OK?’ over her shoulder, he is forced to admit that even though she wasn’t born for deceit and simulation, Jenny Humphrey has already learnt to fool herself with the same skill as any UES-sider.

Too upset to remain standing there, putting up with the stares and giggles he receives from Jenny’s new clique, Eric turns around and runs down the entrance steps. Several people glance at him with curiosity and if he looked up he would see how Blair pushes Carter away to look at him with concern; he would see Dan Humphrey striding across the courtyard and walk a few meters behind him. He doesn’t look up and he doesn’t see either of them.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do next and he doesn’t care. He’s never skipped school before but he can’t stay another second in that place.

He hasn’t even turned around the corner when he feels a strong grip on his arm and before he can react, his back is pressed against the cold wall, there’s a pair of sickeningly familiar eyes staring at him and he can feel his warm breath on his face, a few centimeters away from his.

‘You didn’t reply any of my messages.’

 _And what did you expect, asshole?_ As though the pretty charade of a _normal_ couple he’s putting up wasn’t bad enough, he also had the great idea of singling out Eric’s best friend as his co-star. No, that’s not adding insult to injury at all. Eric doesn’t tell him that, because he doesn’t want to admit that underneath his fury there’s also a piercing ache and why not, jealously as well, because he never said he was any better than Chuck and a fake love affair doesn’t hurt any less.

‘Aren’t you worried that someone might see us? It’s a public place and if I’m not mistaken you’ve got a girlfriend.’

Perhaps he should say to his credit that Asher doesn’t even attempt to look over his shoulder at the people walking down the street, but Eric is not willing to grant him anything. He tries to push him away, but Asher is not willing to let his prey escape and when he leans forward to kiss him, perhaps Eric is forced to admit that this is not about physical strength, because his own will seems to have fallen to the sewers.

In a world where nothing and no one is what they seem to be at a first glance, where people make a solid effort to paint a beautiful fiction over what is already rotten, it’s hard to distinguish what’s real from what’s fake. Eric experiences an unexpected clarity when he realizes that each lie is not just a thread of a web that gets more and more tangled, but that lies are also strong chains that tie and shatter everyone he knows – his mother, Serena, Asher, Chuck, Blair, Carter and even Jenny.

And he also realizes that, even though he hates it, even though it horrifies and disgusts him, he is as tangled and shackled by his own chains as any of them.

 

 

 

 


End file.
